Avengers of the New World: The Story of the Haitian Revolution by Laurent Dubois Page A
Authors: Laurent Dubois
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conflict with the plantation society
that surrounded them, claiming and defending their liberty. As a result
some consider them the precursors—and the ancestors—of those who
rose up in the slave revolt of 1791. (During the reign of François Duvalier,
a statue to the “Unknown Maroon” was erected across from the National
Palace in Port-au-Prince to celebrate these nameless rebels as the found-
ers of the nation.) Others express skepticism about the relationship be-
tween marronage and revolution in Saint-Domingue. The maroon com-
munities of the colony were much smaller than those in Jamaica and
Suriname, in part because many of the mountainous regions where ma-
roons might have sought refuge had been invaded by coffee plantations.
Indeed it may have been the limits on the expansion of maroon communi-
ties that propelled slave revolution, since those who wished to escape slav-
ery had to develop a direct and systemic attack against the world of the
plantations rather than seeking a refuge outside it.45
The presence of maroon communities in Saint-Domingue contributed
to the fissures in colonial society. In order to fight maroons the administra-54
av e n g e r s o f t h e n e w w o r l d
tion ultimately turned to free people of color. In so doing they laid the
foundation for demands for inclusion that ignited the colony during the
revolution. Maroons, by successfully flouting slavery, were also an inspira-
tion and example for the enslaved, as well as for antislavery writers. The
1791 revolt, however, emerged from the heart of the thriving sugar planta-
tions of the northern plain, and the existing maroon communities were not
involved in its planning. More important for the revolt were the practices
of marronage on the edges of plantations, or in the towns, which had helped sustain a culture of autonomy and the networks that connected various plantations. Like religious ceremonies and Sunday gatherings, the
practice of running away laid the groundwork for an uprising that united
slaves across plantations and in so doing enabled them to smash the system
from within. Once they had risen up in 1791, however, slave insurgents
did use tactics pioneered by maroons in defending their mountain camps
against French attacks.46
Makandal was a part of the long tradition of marronage in the colony.
In developing his cross-plantation network of resistance, meanwhile, he
also drew on another long-standing practice: the use of poison by slaves.
Starting in the seventeenth century, colonial legislation outlawed the use of poison, in the process repressing forms of traditional healing practiced
within the slave community that whites often used as well. The reasons for
this proscription were clear enough. Poison granted power. Slaves who
used poison against whites aimed “to dominate their masters” and humili-
ate them by making them feel “a power that was hidden, but very close.”
Poison could be placed in food by the domestics who surrounded whites,
and there was often no way to detect it or to identify who had placed it
there. Commentators pointed out that since many planters put stipula-
tions in their wills granting freedom to certain slaves, there was a strong
incentive for those named slaves to accelerate their access to freedom by
killing their masters. Poison could also be used against the master’s prop-
erty, killing animals in ways that were often difficult to distinguish from
death by disease. Often it was used by slaves against other slaves. Those
who knew how to use poison could gain power and respect within the slave
community.47
It is difficult to know how extensive the use of poison by slaves actually
was. Evidence of its use comes primarily from trials conducted in a context
of rampant paranoia. Masters often imagined that poison was being used
when in fact their animals were dying of disease, and their slaves of over-
f e r m e n ta t i o n
55
work and misery.
that surrounded them, claiming and defending their liberty. As a result
some consider them the precursors—and the ancestors—of those who
rose up in the slave revolt of 1791. (During the reign of François Duvalier,
a statue to the “Unknown Maroon” was erected across from the National
Palace in Port-au-Prince to celebrate these nameless rebels as the found-
ers of the nation.) Others express skepticism about the relationship be-
tween marronage and revolution in Saint-Domingue. The maroon com-
munities of the colony were much smaller than those in Jamaica and
Suriname, in part because many of the mountainous regions where ma-
roons might have sought refuge had been invaded by coffee plantations.
Indeed it may have been the limits on the expansion of maroon communi-
ties that propelled slave revolution, since those who wished to escape slav-
ery had to develop a direct and systemic attack against the world of the
plantations rather than seeking a refuge outside it.45
The presence of maroon communities in Saint-Domingue contributed
to the fissures in colonial society. In order to fight maroons the administra-54
av e n g e r s o f t h e n e w w o r l d
tion ultimately turned to free people of color. In so doing they laid the
foundation for demands for inclusion that ignited the colony during the
revolution. Maroons, by successfully flouting slavery, were also an inspira-
tion and example for the enslaved, as well as for antislavery writers. The
1791 revolt, however, emerged from the heart of the thriving sugar planta-
tions of the northern plain, and the existing maroon communities were not
involved in its planning. More important for the revolt were the practices
of marronage on the edges of plantations, or in the towns, which had helped sustain a culture of autonomy and the networks that connected various plantations. Like religious ceremonies and Sunday gatherings, the
practice of running away laid the groundwork for an uprising that united
slaves across plantations and in so doing enabled them to smash the system
from within. Once they had risen up in 1791, however, slave insurgents
did use tactics pioneered by maroons in defending their mountain camps
against French attacks.46
Makandal was a part of the long tradition of marronage in the colony.
In developing his cross-plantation network of resistance, meanwhile, he
also drew on another long-standing practice: the use of poison by slaves.
Starting in the seventeenth century, colonial legislation outlawed the use of poison, in the process repressing forms of traditional healing practiced
within the slave community that whites often used as well. The reasons for
this proscription were clear enough. Poison granted power. Slaves who
used poison against whites aimed “to dominate their masters” and humili-
ate them by making them feel “a power that was hidden, but very close.”
Poison could be placed in food by the domestics who surrounded whites,
and there was often no way to detect it or to identify who had placed it
there. Commentators pointed out that since many planters put stipula-
tions in their wills granting freedom to certain slaves, there was a strong
incentive for those named slaves to accelerate their access to freedom by
killing their masters. Poison could also be used against the master’s prop-
erty, killing animals in ways that were often difficult to distinguish from
death by disease. Often it was used by slaves against other slaves. Those
who knew how to use poison could gain power and respect within the slave
community.47
It is difficult to know how extensive the use of poison by slaves actually
was. Evidence of its use comes primarily from trials conducted in a context
of rampant paranoia. Masters often imagined that poison was being used
when in fact their animals were dying of disease, and their slaves of over-
f e r m e n ta t i o n
55
work and misery.
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