Nine Turks in ten cannot read in 1928

The rate of illiteracy in Turkey stood at ninety per cent in 1927 and 1928. By 1935 and 1936 it had fallen to eighty per cent, and from 1950 onwards it settled around sixty per cent. Secondary schools expanded forty one times between 1927 and 1960 and university enrolment grew at about the same rate, so the effort went into the upper levels. In 1960 the villages still had 1,455,254 children in elementary school out of 2,372,778 of school age, while the towns had 823,947 out of 945,624. Villages were small and scattered, schools and teachers were expensive, and there was no settled idea of what mass education was for. Education at the higher levels became a marker of status, and some conservatives openly doubted whether spreading primary schooling was wise, proposing instead to train a technical elite abroad and hand the country to it.

Borno and Russell never mastered the Haitian press. Papers edited in the French polemical tradition attacked the occupation with a freedom the courts protected by refusing to convict editors. One journal spent part of 1925 running a daily notice counting down the days until the sanitary service would move Borno's remains to the city dump. Another advised readers to poison him. A preventive detention law of 1922 put Jolibois fils in and out of prison so often that the American diplomat Dana Munro thought he preferred it there, and Ernest Chauvet of Le Nouvelliste was locked up periodically and by one account enjoyed himself, devouring whole roast turkeys and drinking champagne. The courts went unreformed. Murder cases ended in acquittal on the plea that the victim had been a lougawou, since the penal code itself named sorcery a crime and treated zombification as real. The Garde was then turned on Vodou, arresting Haitians for preparing manje pou lesen. No senior American ever grasped that they were prosecuting the national religion.

Back from Haiti, Addie Hunton reported that important people were paying attention and that her quiet propaganda on Haiti's behalf might come to something. Quiet is the wrong word for what she then did. Inside the same year she spoke about Haiti to the California state convention of the National Association of Colored Women, to the National Federation of Colored Women's Clubs, to the NAACP convention in Chicago, and to the National Association of Colored Women again at Oakland. The following year she carried the subject to the Pan-African Conference in New York. Malbranche-Sylvain and Hudicourt were working the same circuit from the other end, through the Women's International League for Peace and Freedom, so that what happened to a woman in Port-au-Prince could be described in a hall in California within months. The speed of the reporting did nothing to slow the occupation. While Hunton toured, Haitian girls went on being harmed by the men garrisoned in their towns, and the list of their names went on getting longer.

In the late 1960s, during one of the hardest stretches of the Duvalier period, Franketyen, Rene Philoctete and Jean-Claude Fignole founded Spiralism in Haiti. It took the spiral as its working figure: repetition, return, and a refusal to settle into any fixed shape. All three declined to emigrate, which set them apart from most Haitian intellectuals of their generation, and the movement rested on two commitments. The first was that the space and the culture of Haiti held enough material for any literature. The second was that a form invented there could be applied anywhere. Franketyen did not once set foot outside the country during thirty years of dictatorship. He described that confinement as the source of his writing, and said he made imaginary journeys through reading, writing and dreams instead. After Jean-Claude Duvalier was driven out, he began in 1987 to travel to the United States, Canada, Latin America, Europe, Africa, Japan, Martinique and Guadeloupe.