January 12: Neither God Nor Devil By Jean Venel Casséus

January 12, 2010, marks a brutal rupture in the ordinary course of existence in Haitian memory. In Port-au-Prince, in the Southern region, the earth trembled, and with it, the most intimate landmarks. Since then, interpretations readily drift towards narratives that avoid confronting the materiality of an event whose magnitude exceeds usual frameworks of understanding. Survivors are said to have been spared by divine grace; the deceased are said to have paid an obscure debt, sealed by some malignant force. This interpretation, however widespread, holds neither philosophically nor morally.

Having survived the earthquake confers no particular metaphysical status. Being still here, 16 years later, stems neither from a celestial privilege nor an occult election. Similarly, those who made that great journey that day were not struck by a curse. The catastrophe obeyed no moral grammar. It distinguished neither the virtuous from the guilty, nor believers from skeptics. It struck blindly, as natural forces do when they encounter vulnerable societies, poorly built cities, and fragile states.

Saying «that's life» excuses nothing, but at least allows us to escape theological impasses and lazy explanations. The earthquake was a terrible, massive event, inscribed in a geological reality and a long social history. From there begins another, far more demanding inquiry, which concerns neither God nor the Devil, but the women and men still standing. For if we are still alive today, it is not to remain frozen in a posture of perpetual survivors, nor to cultivate a survivor identity as symbolic capital.

16 years have passed. Enough time has elapsed to shift our perspective, to move beyond contemplation and enter the realm of responsibility. The real question is therefore no longer «why me?», but «what for?». As a survivor, what has been my usefulness over these past 16 years for my immediate environment? For my country? For the world? What have I added, even on a small scale, to the human density around me? Have I contributed to repairing, transmitting, organizing, thinking?

Today, we must have the courage to ask ourselves these questions without complacency. Have I remained a mere part of the scenery, a passive witness to a tragedy I recall each year without ever drawing concrete consequences from it? Have I become an extension of the misfortunes caused by the earthquake, by inaction, by cynicism, by the reproduction of the same disorders? Or am I engaged in a continuous effort to build humanity, even if discreet, even if imperfect, but real?

January 12 cannot be an altar of eternal lamentations. It should function as a mirror, sometimes uncomfortable, held up to every conscience. Neither God nor the Devil answers for us there. It is our choices, our silences, our commitments, our relationship to the common good that give meaning, or not, to the fact of still being here. Surviving has never been an answer. To act, to think, to transmit: this is what, 16 years later, deserves examination.