Charlemagne Péralte is killed at Masère, and then photographed

The plan for the night of 31 October 1919 had Conzé, the informant, leading an attack on Grande Rivière while Péralte waited at Masère in the river gorge. On the 29th a secret radio message went out from the Cap. Herman Hanneken, blacked up and dressed as a Caco, walked through the outposts with Conzé's help and put two .45 rounds through Péralte's chest at close range. The marines then tied the body to a door, photographed it, and circulated the picture to prove the Caco leader was dead. The photograph did the opposite of what it was for. Propped upright with arms out against the wood, the image reads as a crucifixion, and that is exactly how Haiti received it. It went onto the one gourde note after 1986. The occupation produced its own martyr and then printed his icon itself.

The pan-African movement of the 1920s and 1930s grew in North America and the Caribbean out of a shared experience of colonial rule and racism. Marcus Garvey, who never set foot in Africa, founded the Universal Negro Improvement Association and preached Africa for the Africans and the removal of Europeans from it. Garveyism was eccentric in places, and it reached the young men who would lead African independence movements in the 1940s and 1950s. In French-speaking Africa the same current produced negritude, argued most publicly by the Senegalese poet Leopold Senghor, later the first president of Senegal, which asserted Black self-respect and the antiquity of African civilisation. I keep this on a Haitian timeline because Haiti sat in the middle of the traffic. The marines were in Port-au-Prince while Garvey was speaking in Harlem, and the Haitian writers who answered the occupation were reading the same material as the men who would govern Dakar and Accra.

Across Africa the colonial administrations wanted the same three things. They wanted revenue, raised by a tax levied on every head or every hut, which for most Africans was the first plain evidence that they no longer governed themselves. They wanted labour, and a tax payable in cash was the instrument for producing it. They wanted cash crops and minerals moving outward. Schools and clinics stayed in missionary hands into the 1920s and the state itself was absent from most of daily life. What it did build was transport. Railways and roads tied the continent to the world economy, and Reid calls that the deepest thing colonialism left behind. During the 1920s a good many Africans thought the arrangement might work for them, since organised violence had fallen off, cash crops and migrant wages were available, and populations were recovering from the disasters of the previous thirty years. The Depression closed that opening. By the middle of the 1930s officials were complaining about the aimlessness and the brutality of their own system.

In January 1919 word reached Port-au-Prince that things were wrong at Hinche, out on the Plateau Central at the end of the new road. The corvée had officially stopped the previous October and was still running. Peasants ran into the bush at the sight of a gendarme. Prisoners taken by the marines were shot or simply vanished. Colonel Williams reported the charges baseless on the word of the district commander, Major Clarke Wells. Lieutenant Colonel Hooker went up and came back with the opposite finding. General Catlin, carrying a lung half destroyed at Belleau Wood, then went himself to Saint Michel, Maïssade and Hinche and talked to priests, magistrats and frightened peasants. The corvée was in full operation, prisoners had been shot with escape given as the reason every time, and Wells had made clear to his subordinates that he did not want prisoners reported. Catlin relieved Wells, moved every Gendarmerie officer out of the district, and brought courts martial against nobody. General Barnett read of indiscriminate killing in a court record that September and demanded an inquiry.