Powerful, Chic First Lady Generous to Poor, Herself : Haiti’s ‘Baby Doc’ Governs in Isolation

The scene inside the National Palace is about what you would expect of a Third World dictatorship. It resembles an armed fort, crawling with soldiers, the courtyard full of newly arrived crates of submachine guns, Uzis from Israel.

Offices are decorated with the most expensive Haitian art, waiting rooms are opulent concoctions of white-on-white, full of priceless antiques and luxurious sofas adorned with dozens of perfectly matched African elephant tusks.

Enter His Excellency, President-for-Life Jean-Claude Duvalier, 33. Looking every bit the plump, provincial island king in his crisp, tan safari suit, he is no surprise either.

An unworldly, obese 19-year-old when he inherited the nation in 1971 from his father, Francois (Papa Doc), Duvalier has been a virtual prisoner in Haiti ever since, not daring to leave the island even briefly, either on vacation or state business, for fear of a palace coup.

Unlike most members of the Haitian elite, Duvalier was not sent abroad for his education either; his view of the world derives strictly from television, books and conversations with others.

His own small universe consists of occasional trips--amid a small army of bodyguards--to either his beach house or his mountain home, neither more than 20 miles from the palace.

He rarely makes a public appearance, remains isolated behind a tight little clique of influential ministers and has almost no contact with other national leaders.

Accordingly, stepping into a roomful of strangers, Duvalier seems shy, ill-at-ease, a little dazed, as if he still isn’t quite certain, 14 years later, precisely what it is that he is supposed to say and do.

He hesitates uncertainly on the threshold, then approaches with stiff reserve, offers a tentative handshake, poses self-consciously for pictures and looks as if he would like to bolt.

It is fitting that Duvalier’s subjects have nicknamed him “Baby Doc.” There is in his round, somber face nothing of the angular steeliness of the father, one of this century’s most notorious dictators, none of Papa Doc’s sharp vigilance in the son’s placid, half-sad, half-sleepy eyes.

Visit From Cousteau

On this particular day, Duvalier faced two encounters with the outside world. First, he granted a polite, ceremonial audience to oceanographer Jacques Cousteau, who had been filming Haiti’s reefs.

Then, for the first time in recent memory, he sat down with an American journalist to discuss his stewardship of this pathetic little country, home of 6 million of the poorest people on earth.

Not surprisingly, he assumes the role of the well-intentioned, misunderstood martyr, the caring and beneficent leader who knows the needs of his people and has done as much as humanly possible for them since he took power--given the resources he had and the truly horrendous list of ever-escalating problems Haiti faces.

“But the foreign press never reports our achievements, the progress we are making,” he complained, “ . . . only the negatives, the sensational. Haiti is good merchandise, it sells newspapers. But I hope history will judge me based on what my government is trying to do today--not on the past.”

Duvalier speaks softly, in a monotone as devoid of expression as his solemn face. Also, he speaks no English, only French, so his wife translates for him.

Interesting Character

And, in this scenario, it is Michele Duvalier, 32, who is by far the most interesting character.

Beautiful, smart and vivacious, full of natural charm, she is so perfectly suited to her role as First Lady of Haiti, mate to a reclusive Third World dictator, that she might have been sent over by Central Casting.

An urbane, American-educated divorcee with two children when she married Duvalier five years ago--and promptly produced two more heirs of Duvalier’s own--she is a woman who, on the one hand, would be another Eva Peron, building hospitals and schools for the poor, while, at the same time, lavishing time and money on her makeup, coiffure, jewelry and clothes.

Today, long hair flowing loosely over her shoulders, she wore simple lounging pajamas of bright orange silk; she favors backless, spike-heeled shoes.

Duvalier’s devotion to his wife is instantly evident to any stranger. About the only time his sober face softens, it seems, it when he is discussing her. It was due to “her encouragement,” he said with a shy smile, eyes lighting with devotion and pride, that he was able to lose so much weight. Now, in turn, he is nagging her about her heavy cigarette habit.

And, certainly, Michele Duvalier’s influence over her husband is beyond dispute. It was due only to her persuasion, in fact, that Duvalier was even sitting here, enduring this encounter with a foreign reporter.

Gentle Hand-Tug

She did it with breathtaking ease, too, just a few soft words in French, a gentle tug at his hand, and Duvalier sat.

Indeed, among the Haitian elite, who feed on palace gossip, the extent of Michele Duvalier’s power is a subject of running debate. She sits in on Cabinet meetings, chastises ministers who displease her and allegedly extracts sizable donations for her hospital foundation from various ministries, who dare not refuse.

Some think she may actually be running Haiti today--and nearly everyone is convinced that she is at least an equal partner, with more influence over Duvalier than any minister.

Another favorite tidbit of palace gossip, still juicy five years later (and yet another example of the sometimes-bizarre nepotism of Haitian government), concerns the reportedly violent opposition of Duvalier’s mother, Simone, to having the former Michele Bennett in the family.

The daughter of a wealthy coffee grower, Michele Duvalier is not only a mulatto and a divorcee, but also the former daughter-in-law of Alix Pasquet, who led an abortive coup in 1958 against Papa Doc. (He was killed in the battle outside the palace.)

“So, what you have now is, I think, very amusing,” said one wealthy Haitian dowager, relishing the tale. “In the palace are four children, and the grandfather of two of them tried to murder the grandfather of the other two.” (The First Lady’s ex-husband, a car dealer, still lives here and regularly picks up his two sons at the palace on weekends.)

Sojourn in Paris

Since the marriage, Simone Duvalier, whose official title is Guardian of the Revolution, has apparently been edged almost completely out of the palace picture by her daughter-in-law and spends most of her time in Paris. (Duvalier’s ambitious older sister, Marie-Denise, has also vanished from the palace scene.)

Michele Duvalier is no reticent Rosalynn Carter or Nancy Reagan when it comes to describing her own role.

“Of course, my husband and I are partners,” she says freely. “He asks me to attend the Cabinet meetings and so I do. Of course, I am mainly interested in health, education and social programs; I leave the politics to my husband. And I think he does very well. . . . “

Then, “Why should a woman not participate in government if her husband is president? My father warned me (of the stereotype)--’pretty face, empty head.’ It is the common way of thinking, but my husband doesn’t share that view, fortunately.”

With that, she flashed him a melting smile, then adroitly shifted the conversation back to Duvalier, who had been sitting quietly, understanding little of the English being spoken, but watching his wife with an expression of utter trust.

He had a couple of key grievances on his mind.

He bitterly protests as both “discriminatory and unreasonable” the annual U.S. congressional certification process, tying foreign aid to Haitian progress in human rights and democracy.

Low on Aid List

(As a result, Haiti receives less aid than any other Caribbean nation, $54 million this year; by comparison, Jamaica, for example, with only 2 million people and far fewer problems, received $158 million in 1984, compared to $44 million for Haiti.)

“But we are grateful to President Reagan (who also opposes the certification). . . . He understands that foreign aid must not be tied to the political. It’s easy (for Congress) to be liberal about Haiti, it doesn’t cost them anything . . . but their attitude isn’t healthy for development of this country, it’s not helping to improve education, public health, transportation, growth and to create jobs. It only hurts the poor people of Haiti.”

And, Duvalier would like Americans to at least try to comprehend, he said, that Haiti is not ready for democracy as Westerners know it, primarily because of its 80% illiteracy rate. “Also, the people can be easily influenced. We must have stability to guard against what has happened in Nigaragua and Cuba.” Duvalier and his ministers never miss an opportunity to remind of the Communist menace 50 miles from their shores.

It was one of the more disconcerting twists of this three-way conversation that, although Duvalier consistently speaks in a cautious, soft, almost expressionless manner, his answers were being delivered through the lively, animated personality of his wife--who had a few thoughts of her own.

“I tell the president he should make me ambassador to the U.S. for six months, maybe I can make them understand! It’s easy for Americans to say this is a corrupt, evil nation. . . . You don’t have to take care of so many poor people,” she declared, with passion. “There is so much work left to be done in Haiti, so much suffering here, so much need .

PR Firms Hired

“And, if the United States would stop trying to impose its own standards on us, in aid and politics, we could advance so much faster !”

Lately, Duvalier’s regime has been going to unprecedented lengths, it seems, to shed some of Haiti’s traditionally sinister image and bring it into the company of respectable nations. Not long ago, Duvalier even hired a handful of American public relations firms, at a rumored cost of around $7 million, to help Haiti improve its international reputation.

And, not only is Duvalier himself talking to the media, most of his ministers have recently been more available than previously.

Two months ago, Duvalier even replaced the notorious hard-liner who was his minister of interior and national defense with the far more mellow, public relations-minded Francois Guillaume, former ambassador to the Organization of American States, who sat behind his desk, garrulously proclaiming:

“My door is open, we have nothing to hide. I would be pleased if Americans would come here to see for themselves the true situation in Haiti, that there are no Tontons Macoutes (the Haitian special police) shooting people in the streets.” (Guillaume, however, barely lasted a month, as it turned out; Information Minister Jean-Marie Chenois, 41, said to be the most influential member of Duvalier’s Cabinet, recently got his job. Turnover is high in the Duvalier inner circle.)

“We want people to try to understand our history, we are weak, we are poor, it has been the same since independence,” said Duvalier. “We hope the American public will at least give us some credit for trying to build a new system, because we need investments here to create more jobs. Our efforts must be doubled in every sector. Within the next 15 years, we must invest $500 million in the energy sector alone. That is just an example of our problems. So, far from being reduced, or even kept at present levels, foreign aid must be increased.”

Influence of Wife

For Duvalier, it was an almost passionate appeal. He even raised his voice a decibel.

Again, most Haitians attribute this new palace campaign for international sympathy and understanding not to any change in Duvalier’s thinking but to the influence of his wife.

“That’s Michele’s doing, not Jean-Claude’s,” says a friend of the couple. “She understands the Washington-Wall Street mentality; he doesn’t. He’s paranoid about foreigners, she’s traveled all over the world.”

And, Duvalier’s face does tighten noticeably at the barest mention of his father’s notoriously bloody reputation. “It is unfair,” is all he says. Later, a flicker of defensive pride in his tone, he also commented briefly that, although he was only a teen-ager when he took over Haiti, he was not afraid, “because I had a very, very good teacher in my father.”

(Besides that, she points out, “Also, remember--my husband has lived in the palace since he was 5 years old.”)

Then, perhaps prodded by his wife, Duvalier tried to provide a humanizing anecdote about himself, woodenly telling a quaint little story about how unreal it all seemed to him, that day in 1971 as he sat in the palace, being sworn in as Haiti’s latest president-for-life.

“The president says, ‘I had to pinch my cheek to make sure it was true, I was so overwhelmed,’ ” she said, smiling brightly, as Duvalier pinched his cheek in demonstration.

Now, 14 years later, although Duvalier is the first to agree that Haiti remains a ravaged little nation, he also takes visible pride in the fact that he has at least achieved, in the long run, an environment of relative political stability that is attracting hundreds of American investors to Haiti.

Accomplishments Itemized

He is equally proud of the fact that, however far from the mark it may be in the eyes of Americans, Haiti is considerably more respectable now than it was 15 years ago. His wife, in fact, is even thinking of hosting a Caribbean women’s conference next year, which would have been unthinkable in years past. Most women would have probably been too afraid of Papa Doc’s legendary Tontons Macoutes to come.

And, Duvalier sounded satisfied enough as he carefully, methodically itemized his regime’s more tangible accomplishments. However belatedly, his government, in concert with the United States and world agencies, began an extensive tree-planting campaign a few years ago to salvage the eroded Haitian countryside; and, though they are literally no more than a drop in the bucket, a few showcase irrigation and terracing projects have also been completed.

Also, Duvalier points out, within the past 12 years, he has invested around $800 million in: construction of around 350 miles of new roads and two deep-water ports; airport improvements; a modern telephone and telegraph network; the beginning of a national electrical energy system; “dozens” of schools; and around 100 small hospitals and clinics in both rural and urban areas.

Not counting those his wife has built.

He looked relieved when she finally said it was time for the interview to end.

Unlike her husband, however, Michele Duvalier is not only relaxed around reporters, she understands the potential benefits of good press. And so she was more than happy to spend a morning conducting a personal tour of one of the three hospitals her private foundation has built for the poor on the edge of a major slum.

Dressed for Dignity

Unlike Duvalier, too, she does not travel about Haiti with a full entourage of armed guards. She arrived at the hospital, instead, in a new BMW with only two young soldiers and a younger sister, who serves as her secretary.

On this occasion, she had dressed for dignity. Her hair molded into a sleek chignon, she wore a close-fitting Mandarin dress of purple print silk, backless purple spikes, and a small pair of diamond- and ruby-studded earrings which probably cost more than an average Haitian earns in a decade.

A gleaming, modern facility, the hospital’s waiting room was packed with ragged, empty-eyed men, women and children. As she swept through the room, a butterfly of dazzling color and beauty suddenly in their midst, all rose; she waved them down with a flutter of her hand, continuing with brisk purpose from one ward to the next.

As she walked, chain-smoking the entire tour, she alternately discussed the hospital and herself.

She attended a secretarial school in New York and lived there several years. “I did not complete college,” she said, without a hint of defensiveness.

Indeed, nothing about Michele Duvalier suggests self-consciousness. She seems totally at ease with herself and the world around her, traced with a likable, light-hearted cynicism that skeptics will not take her seriously. She talks at a quick, spontaneous, crowded pace, occasionally letting drop a thoughtless line, or a flash of high pride. And, when it comes to money matters, she is sometimes a classic example of the imperially naive dictator’s wife.

‘Press Is Cruel’

At the moment, her thoughts were on other First Ladies, herself, and clothes.

“The American press is so cruel to First Ladies,” she said, cheerfully exasperated.

“I no longer believe anything they said about Jackie Kennedy’s clothing budget, because now they say of me, that I spend millions on clothes, too. Then (the press) criticized Rosalynn Carter because she didn’t know how to dress. And now they criticize Mrs. Reagan because she does know how to dress. I admire Mrs. Reagan. She is obviously very close to her husband, and it touches me. And she is very elegant, although she is very old.”

Her mind skipped to press coverage of her wedding to Duvalier, a palace bash replete with imported flowers and exotic edibles that cost an estimated $2 million.

“They wrote that I was covered in jewels head to foot when I was married, that my dress was all diamonds. And it was absolute nonsense ! I wore my ring and a pair of earrings at my wedding.”

But then, with a slight tilt of the chin, revealing the pride inside, “Besides, how did they expect him to be married? He was a bachelor, the president; it was his first marriage. What the press never says is that the Haitian people love Jean-Claude Duvalier. They did not want his wedding to be a simple affair!”

And, in the same tone, not haughty but not humble either, “. . . Of course I spend money on clothes. How do they expec t the First Lady of Haiti to dress? I must look well. But it is not excessive . . . and I certainly don’t spend millions on clothes. How could I wear them all? Besides, we are a poor country, I am not Marie Antoinette saying, ‘Let them eat cake.’ ”

‘The Lies They Tell’

In fact, the whole cloud of rumors surrounding Duvalier spending sends Michele Duvalier into an torrent of exasperated, half-laughing denials.

“It’s so absurd, the lies they tell! When I go to France, they say I bought two villas, when I go to California, they say I have bought a ranch.”

The actual source of Duvalier family finances, of course, remains a subject of gossip, generally involving allegations of skimming from the national treasury. Certainly Duvalier did not inherit much family wealth since his father was a middle-class doctor before his coup. Michele Duvalier’s affluent father, coffee exporter Ernest Bennett, on the other hand, has been accused so often of multiplying his wealth tenfold since his daughter’s fortuitous marriage that he sometimes produces stacks of tax receipts to prove to reporters that he is not receiving favored treatment.

(And he sounds like quite a fellow. “The House of Bennett has always flourished,” he has boasted to reporters and, in another lively, memorable aside, “In coffee, only the strong survive.” Bennett’s son, Franz, equally flamboyant in his own style, has been jailed off and on, in Haiti and most recently in Puerto Rico, for trafficking in such drugs as heroin and cocaine.)

In any case, President Duvalier doesn’t seem to be short on cash. Every year, for example, he rewards a handful of select, high-achieving factory workers with new homes, built, as his wife points out with pride, “with his own money, and every year, the president gives those houses on the week of his birthday--July 11,” she says blithely. “And, they are allocated by virtue of the needs of the people. They only pay something like $5 a month in rent.”

Donation From the State

And, although Michele Duvalier says her foundation is financed primarily through donations from wealthy Haitian friends, she also adds that, if she comes up short on a project, “My husband fills in for me; he gives me the money. The state gives me a donation.”

It wasn’t clear whether the state “donation” and Duvalier’s money were one and the same, or two different gifts. She probably didn’t know herself.

Duvalier is very proud of her foundation, which includes not only the hospitals but also six schools and a dozen cut-rate pharmacies for the poor. In addition, she is beginning “a revival of the Haitian arts” with plans to build some new theaters and libraries.

“Even before I became First Lady, I was conscious of the needs of my people. When I married the president, I knew I had a chance to do something important for them. And I am very used to all classes of people; I grew up in the country, among the peasants who grow and sell the coffee. . . . I am a social worker at heart and always have been.”

Anticipating the cynicism, she laughed at it. “I know Americans will not wish to believe that, of course--not of the First Lady of Haiti. Nonetheless it is so.”

“I know I am compared to Evita Peron, perhaps it is fair--but make it clear to Americans that I visit my hospitals. I sometimes check on them late at night, unannounced, to see that no one is being slow or sleeping. I am in charge of all supervisory hiring and I fire those who are incompetent.”

She also regards herself as a shrewd businesswoman. “I run it (her foundation) the way I would run a business, as I ran my father’s coffee business. And I am very efficient. I sometimes go shop for equipment, anonymously, in the U.S.”

Surplus U.S. Trays

Pausing at a hospital kitchen, she pointed to a stack of trays. “For instance, I got those, cheap, from a U.S. military depot. They never knew who I was, even, only that the price was right.”

Her two bodyguards trailed along behind her during the tour and, occasionally, entering a sensitive ward, she would hand her cigarette to one of them to hold until she emerged. (She smokes Benson & Hedges, menthol. And uses a Bic lighter.)

In the maternity ward, passing one woman about to give birth and howling in pain, Duvalier slapped her lightly on the hip, and laughingly said, “This must be your first; you’ll be back in nine months for more.” The woman was in too much misery to know, or care, that she had just been face to face with the First Lady of Haiti.

Duvalier is planning to build yet a fourth hospital soon, she said. “The state will give me the land; it’s an old hotel now. I told my husband I needed it. The president and I have only one ambition, together, and that is to make life a little better for the people of Haiti.”

And then she had arrived at the children’s ward. There were beds for around 40.

“These are the hardest, these little ones. . . ,” she said softly, picking up a listless baby suffering from the protein deficiency kwashiorkor. “And, the tragedy is, it’s not always a lack of food, the mothers sometimes just don’t know how to feed them the proper foods.” Her hospitals dispense high-protein serums free.

On this tour at least, Michele Duvalier had certainly demonstrated that her foundation is more than an idle hobby. She was able to explain every piece of equipment, every facility with familiarity and expertise, and she seemed to know every doctor, nurse and clerk by name. Most did not even stand as she passed by.

But, asked how much this particular hospital had cost to build, Duvalier looked momentarily confused, then, laughing lightly, said the predictable: “Why, I don’t know. My husband gave it to me for a birthday present, so I didn’t ask.”