Tens of thousands of Americans visit Haiti every year, despite that nation descending into gang-fueled anarchistic chaos. They just don't really know they are there.
That's because they're hermetically sealed off in a place called Labadee, a so-called private destination of the Royal Caribbean Group located on Haiti's northern coast. In those fun 260 acres, cruisers on ships sailed by such brands as Royal Caribbean and Celebrity can graze the buffet, drink a fruity cocktail or two, and play water sports with the cruise line snagging most of any additional spending.
Late last week, though, the company announced it was suspending all its ships' visits to Labadee "in an abundance of caution." The troubles in Haiti proper, where armed gangs have been causing havoc in what in recent weeks has become a dangerously rudderless country, have exceeded the cruise line's capacity for risk, despite the security barriers and the intentional separation.
That would certainly seem like a wise idea. But for anyone looking at the long, painful history of this impoverished nation, there is irony to spare in the Labadee situation, an attempt to bring the country's natural beauty to market without becoming involved in what clearly now is a crisis.
Going forward, it's clear that the U.S. can't just sunbathe in isolation; it will have to face up to what is going on in a proximate, gang-dominated nation where reports are emerging of widespread killings, kidnappings and sexual violence.
U.S. Agency for International Development chief Samantha Power announced an additional $25 million in humanitarian assistance last week. That will surely be welcome. But the people of Haiti, seeking some semblance of stability as they remain terrified by the men with guns marauding down the streets of Port-au-Prince, remain in search of the systemic international help needed to keep them safe.