American favouritism toward one faction produces the noiriste reaction

Dupuy traces a direct line from an occupation policy to the shape of mid-century Haitian politics. The occupiers installed the mulatto faction of the bourgeoisie in office as clients, which sharpened the colour conflict inherited from the nineteenth century. The noiriste backlash that followed carried Dumarsais Estime to the presidency in 1946 and Francois Duvalier in 1957, both aiming to restore the political dominance of the Black faction of the bourgeoisie. Fatton adds that the mulatriste Lescot government's violent campaign against Vodou fed the same reaction and a reassertion of Haiti's African identity, and that this cultural struggle owes its salience to the occupation. Renda separates the strands, distinguishing how the majority lived their African inheritance, how elites came to value it in opposition to the occupiers through Price-Mars and indigenisme, and how Duvalier later turned parts of it into an apparatus of state violence.

Europe in 1945 was exhausted and no longer the centre of anything, squeezed between the United States and the Soviet Union after four centuries of preeminence. That made African colonies more valuable in strictly economic terms. Britain leaned on its African possessions harder than it ever had, opening fresh areas to trade, investment and production. Eastern and central Africa became important sources of raw materials for a country short of everything, and those materials sat outside the dollar zone, so Britain could rebuild without depending wholly on American credit. A pattern follows. Portugal, the weakest of the colonial economies, kept its empire until the 1970s precisely because it could not manage without the commercial crutch. Britain, the strongest by the 1950s, gave up political administration soonest, because its economic recovery and its influence let it keep the substance while shedding the cost. In Lisbon economic control required political control. In London and Paris it did not. The two visions belonged to different centuries.

On 9 August 1946 the National Constitutional Assembly in Port-au-Prince was debating whether women would have the vote. A section of the hall had been set aside for women, partitioned off from the rest of the audience, and in it sat members of the Ligue Feminine d'Action Sociale, Haiti's first women's rights organisation, whose members came from elite and middle class families. A woman recorded only as a femme du peuple, a woman of the people, pushed through the crowd of politicians and onlookers toward that section. A soldier of the Garde d'Haiti stopped her at the threshold. The Ligue members protested and the crowd backed them, and she was escorted out of the building. Assemblyman Castel Demesmin, a noiriste, used the incident at once, telling the chamber that a woman of the people would always be rejected by these women, then urging his colleagues to save the revolution by saving the country from women. Her removal became the argument for denying the vote to every woman in Haiti.

The constitutional commission of 1946 set aside the demands the Ligue feminine d'action sociale had put before it, on pretexts its president found false. On 16 July 1946 Alice Garoute answered in a public letter. She recorded the League's astonishment that the commissioners had so lightly brushed aside the ideals of justice and liberty of the revolution of 7 January, reminded them that Haiti had signed the accords of Lima and Chapultepec, the San Francisco agreements and the United Nations Charter, all of which hold that men and women are born and remain equal, and wrote that the verdict of inferiority pronounced against women since 1804 disgusted and revolted her. She ended with a line that reads as a manifesto: we will no longer resign ourselves to being reproduction machines and servants of the lord and master. Garoute was born in 1874, daughter of Pauline Brice, and had grown up among exiles arguing politics in Kingston.