Monsters and Hope (Part I)
I returned from Montreal, unsettled by discussions with family about Springfield, Haitians, cats, and dogs. These talks stirred a familiar bitterness in me—an exasperation born from watching both the country of my birth and the one I’ve called home for thirty-nine years sink further into disgrace. There is hope for the Haitian children in Springfield though—something I'll address in Part II; but first, let me say what I should have said to my tribe in the north, and what we all must confront now.
Even if the 2020 election’s loser couldn’t locate Haiti with a GPS, it hasn’t stopped him from waging his cold-blooded crusade against Haitians in Springfield, Ohio. This isn’t the slip of a man bad at geography—it’s deliberate, ruthless malice, propped up by the crocodile tears of those who feign shock while raking in the rewards. The charade persists because, like every villain in history, they need scapegoats to burn, leaving Springfield’s Haitians to bear the scars of crimes they didn’t commit. The real crime? Humanity erased.
No one predicted what has unfolded in Springfield since the pandemic, when thousands of Haitians began to move there to fill jobs. The most unpredictable unraveling doesn’t come from the raw anger sparked by the fatal school bus crash, but from the quiet force that erodes empathy. Their lives are reduced to nothing, misunderstood—or worse—unnoticed by minds too blind to care. But this isn’t harmless. It’s the prologue to a narrative darker than smoke, where indifference becomes the foundation for horrors yet to come.
Springfield isn’t the problem. The poison comes from outsiders feeding Kool-Aid to their base. Haitians live there, holding on to hope even as they’re vilified. The locals are supportive, but the real threat comes from prominent voices who stay quiet, standing on the sidelines while policies are crafted to strip away what little chance these children, and others like them, have to build a life in America.
Look no further than Project 2025’s Mandate for Leadership, a manifesto from the Heritage Foundation. Among its more chilling proposals? Denaturalization—which involves stripping the citizenship of naturalized Americans under specific conditions. This term hides nothing: it reflects an agenda to redefine who belongs in this country, echoing concerns rooted in replacement theory.
The issue extends beyond ignorance of geography or derogatory remarks about Haiti. Whether it's misunderstanding that tariffs function as taxes, underestimating the strategic role of U.S. forces in Korea, or misapprehending NATO's purpose, these are not just gaps in knowledge. They represent a dangerous indifference to reality and a disregard for the security of people worldwide.1
Forgivable lapses are one thing; dismissing expertise and parading ignorance is quite another, especially in a nation where college students sink in debt for the privilege of learning what some leaders dismiss with a wave of the hand.
Meanwhile, a Haitian child in Springfield goes to bed wondering if this is the land her parents promised, and whether she should stay far from pets to avoid suspicion. Across the ocean, in the Cité Soleil slum—where hope evaporates faster than sweat—another child drifts off to sleep on an empty stomach, dreaming of a way out. Both bear the burden of circumstances beyond their choosing, viewed as outsiders in a world that judges them harshly. Despite it all, their desires are simple: to belong, to be accepted, to be loved, just like anyone else.
Historians won’t just see this era as one of con artists or another age of revolution. They’ll write about how a nation willingly swapped its principles for exclusion, traded progress for the ease of scapegoats, and replaced reason with spectacle—choosing to bury its better instincts under the weight of fear and convenience.
Like a wind carrying the scent of forgotten massacres, history will only reveal its truth after the silence of those who stood still, letting the world turn to ash around them. It’s as if we’ve regressed to a medieval court, where sycophants crowd the throne and facts are sacrificed in favor of monster-feeding superstition.
It doesn’t matter where Haiti is or where Haitians live. What matters is that Haitians are close enough—historically or geographically—to be branded and blamed.
When their own moral rot confronts them, these monsters retreat to a timeless tactic: crafting imaginary enemies, while ignoring the fraud staring back at them in the mirror. Within this twisted theater of cruelty, Haitian boys and girls are unjustly cast as villains in a story they never wrote, their innocence distorted to fit a narrative of blame.
This isn’t the first time Haitians have been unfairly stigmatized. In the early 1980s, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention mistakenly identified Haiti as a source of the AIDS epidemic, branding an entire population with a stigma they never deserved. Just as then, they've once again become easy targets.
Today, history repeats itself as Haitians face yet another corrosive assault of unwarranted suspicion and hostility—branded as HIV carriers once again. The irony is unmistakable, isn’t it?
Indeed, “[t]here are decades where nothing happens, and there are weeks where decades happen.”2 Fear turns into anger fast, and tragedy quickly becomes an opportunity for exploitation. The snake is always lurking behind the door, invisible for decades until the moment it strikes.
With the ocean nearby, Haiti’s leaders haven’t just stood by as the country collapsed—they’ve captained its plunge into the depths. Whether in suits or uniforms, the outcome is the same. They’ve robbed their own people, traded promises for power, and watched without shame as their workforce fled, the country’s future—humiliated one day in the construction sites of the Dominican Republic, the next in the factories of Springfield. They have become the wardens of Haiti’s misery, leaving behind a legacy of criminal rule. Calling them incompetent doesn’t capture the scale of the tragedy. They are a different breed of politicians, holding out one hand for international aid while tightening the noose around their country’s future with the other. And all the while, no matter the crisis, they stand by, indifferent.
But they haven’t stood alone. If Haiti’s leaders have held out one hand to tighten the noose, international institutions have gladly held the other end of the rope. For decades, they’ve offered just enough “assistance” to keep the country breathing, but never enough to let it rise. It’s a dance of mutual benefit: Haiti’s inept remain in power, pocketing the scraps, while the world reassures itself that it’s “helping.” Meanwhile, the rope tightens, condemning the little girl in Cité Soleil to illiteracy and brutalization, suffocated by promises that were never meant to be kept.
For over 200 years, they have stood by as the country remained trapped in a form of economic bondage. Today, more than half of the population relies on informal labor to survive, and since the 1970s, adjusted for inflation, workers in Haiti earn less than they did five decades ago. This mirrors a long-term decline in GDP per capita and worsening life conditions.
It’s tempting to claim certainty about why Haiti remains poor, much like trying to predict the exact moment of the next major earthquake. Good luck with that. You’d have better luck trying to catch your own shadow—something I remember foolishly attempting as a five-year-old.
Here's a simpler way to see it: Imagine Haiti’s economy as a bicycle tire that keeps deflating no matter how much it’s pumped. The air—foreign investments, international aid, and remittances—leaks through holes of corruption, incompetence, and political instability. And yet, those who could fix it stand by, indifferent.
When it comes to disarray, Haiti is no outlier. As I’ve said, it’s only a matter of scale. In a world where ego and delusion masquerade as leadership, the consequences stretch far beyond a single country. The same reckless governance that has ravaged Haiti infects countries across the globe, where leaders, drunk on power, dismantle their nations from the inside out. (By the way, “leadership” tops my list of the most meaningless words in any language, but I digress).
This disease isn’t unique to Haiti. Even Lincoln’s country has been ravaged by leaders whose vanity eclipses reason. Like in Haiti, they’ve betrayed their oaths, allowing chaos to reign under the guise of governance. And it’s not about what your favorite podcast host says today—what judgment do you think historians will render on January 6 when you and I are long gone?
Let’s not forget: those who witnessed these failures weren’t foreign adversaries but insiders, sworn to serve the American people. Trusted officials who abandoned honor to protect their positions in Republican circles.
Former White House Chief of Staff John Kelly reportedly called the administration “Crazytown,” a polite euphemism for chaos barely contained. James Mattis, the respected general and former Secretary of Defense, compared his commander-in-chief to a “fifth- or sixth-grader”—perhaps more insulting to children than his boss. Behind closed doors, loyalty gave way to talk of “damage control”—language for managing a crisis, not a country.3 And in public, Vladimir Putin’s admirer told the Proud Boys to “stand by.” Suddenly, my five-year-old self chasing his shadow doesn’t seem so stupid, does it?
These officials weren't there to entertain us with buffoonery. Their actions have much more serious consequences. When decency fades, indifference spreads, paving the way for far more dangerous outcomes.
Atrocities aren’t just in history books. They happen now, while the civilized world watches with hands conveniently crossed. The real question isn’t whether the Republican Party nominee for president regains power, fades into obscurity, or faces legal consequences. It is whether we’ve learned anything—whether we can recognize the patterns of complicity we’ve embraced to accommodate such individuals.
With a court standing by to bless the absurd and the repugnant, these people target not just Haitians, Mexicans, Muslims, or any single group but orchestrate a broader assault on the most vulnerable—disabled individuals, the homeless, veterans, and refugees—whom they frame as threats. Each insult and discriminatory policy, including calls for travel bans targeting specific religions, is designed to reshape the boundaries of belonging in the so-called land of the free.
Then we arrive at the enablers: Mitch McConnell, hell-bent on securing the ignoble title of the century's worst legislator through his dedication to self-humiliation. Alongside him stand others whose silence or active complicity lubricates the slide toward insularity and the bashing of immigrants. It is with nonchalance that these monsters foster an environment where divisiveness thrives. Can you imagine their grandchildren taking pride in the inscriptions on their tombstones? I, for one, cannot.
Speaking of tombstones, in a just world, McConnell's would read: “Master of Division: His Insidious Tactics Made Joseph McCarthy Look Inept, Carved Forever in the Annals of Political Monstrosity for His Allegiance to Chaos and Injustice. RIP.”
You want outrage? Despite the Ohio Governor's defense of Haitian rights and his long involvement with a Haitian nonprofit, Mike DeWine still supports his two party’s nominees, whom one might well call monsters in chief. How noble, that a man so devoted to Haitian causes would back those who undermine immigrants. His New York Times article, I’m the Republican Governor of Ohio. Here Is the Truth About Springfield, is telling. I wonder who advised the good Samaritan to include this bit of doublethink.
As a supporter of former President Donald Trump and Senator JD Vance, I am saddened by how they and others continue to repeat claims that lack evidence and disparage the legal migrants living in Springfield. This rhetoric hurts the city and its people, and it hurts those who have spent their lives there.
Integrity, it seems, is elusive, even for those with good intentions. Wake me when the governor finds his conviction.
Put simply, what we’ve witnessed is a deliberate campaign to see just how much corrosive diversion the public can swallow before decency finally snaps. The body politic is consuming poison, waiting to see how long it can endure before vomiting its soul. Forget politics altogether—these imposters, far beyond the famous Palm Beach resident or the author of Hillbilly Elegy, and their enablers on the Supreme Court, have been engaged in a grand deception for decades.
Is it really shocking that immigrants—hardworking, without inheritance to shield or rescue them, guilty only of trying to survive—are cast as dangerous creatures? From inflammatory speeches likening them to vermin, to exclusionary laws, the tactics are both insidious and overt. The real surprise would be not associating Haitians with cats and dogs. But that’s not what’s unfolded.4
Don’t be fooled: History is already rendering its verdict. Every bystander who stayed silent, every enabler who did nothing, will be judged when the monsters we fed inevitably turn on us all. And by then, sanctimonious prayers will be drowned out by the chaos they allowed to fester.
But the paradox haunts me, and I know I’m not alone. Despite its failures, America still draws people from around the world. Even from nations with stronger safety nets, like Canada, tens of thousands migrate south each year, charmed by the enduring promise of America as a haven of opportunity. And let’s be honest, no one’s lining up for a one-way ticket to Slovenia. Even Melania Trump left for the promise of America—tribulations included.5
Join me next time for more in Part II, including a message to the Haitian kids in Springfield.
Notes
Consider the ignorance toward the nuclear triad—the foundation of American defense. Or the failure to grasp the role of the Federal Reserve, treating monetary policy as some dark art rather than the engine of economic stability. The dismissal of critical knowledge didn't start recently, but it's now broadcast with the confidence of those unaware of how little they care to know.
The quote “There are decades where nothing happens, and there are weeks where decades happen” is often attributed to Vladimir Lenin, reflecting on the rapid pace of change during the Bolshevik Revolution.
Reports of John Kelly referring to the administration as "Crazytown" and James Mattis comparing the president to a “fifth- or sixth-grader” are documented in reputable sources, including Bob Woodward's book Fear: Trump in the White House.
Incidentally, if you’ve never heard of Pat Buchanan, it’s probably time to get acquainted.