From the July 16 issue of the New Yorker:

During the last nine months, Haitians have watched as an exemplary drama of liberation has played itself out in much of the world, unfolding according to a powerfully simple script: crowds of brave, defiant people surge through the streets, the seemingly unassailable dictatorship collapses, a new democracy is born and is proudly christened by the ballot box. But what is to be done when, as in Haiti, the dictator falls and the dictatorship remains? When the would-be democrats are shot down in the streets as they wait to vote, and the brave opposition leaders -- articulate, cultured people, Haiti's answer to Walesa and Havel -- are murdered in broad daylight on their way to official meetings? When the United States government by law denies a full restoration of aid until Haitians have achieved the "democratic transition" that has so far eluded them? When no one comes to help, and the latest outrages barely make the inside pages of American papers?

There seems little for Haitians to do except to continue to talk hopefully of new elections, which are now expected in November; to murmur vaguely about a United Nations force, which might make them possible; and to reflect once again that their country, as it has shown so often since 1804, when it gained its independence in an unlikely slave rebellion, refuses to fit a simple script. And Haitians have learned by now the fate of places that don't fit: unable to penetrate the darkness, the world's spotlight dims, flickers, and moves on.