The history behind the vilification of Haitians in Springfield

DDuring the September 2024 presidential debate, Donald J. Trump, in an effort to regain the presidency, made a shocking claim: Haitian immigrants in suburban Ohio were eating people’s pets. This outrageous accusation created a firestorm, with Republican vice presidential candidate and Ohio native JD Vance amplifying the story. Vance insisted that 911 calls were made claiming that Haitian migrants had captured and eaten geese from local parks in Springfield. Although Springfield’s mayor denied these claims, the damage had already been done. Schools were threatened with bomb threats and Haitians in Springfield became targets of violence.

This week During the vice presidential debate on immigration, Minnesota Governor Tim Walz criticized Vance’s spread of false stories about Haitian immigrants in Springfield. “And when it becomes a topic of conversation like this, we dehumanize and vilify other people,” he said. In a simple but profound plea that showed the stark contrast between the two campaigns on the issue, Walz warned: “It’s not true. Don’t do it.”

And yet Vance doubled down on fabricated statements about the legal status of Haitian immigrants and the lies that they eat pets and harm the community. Why? Because they are using the age-old practice of criminalizing black people by portraying their practices as dangerous. However, this vilification cannot be understood without looking at the long history of demonizing black religions, which has been a cultural foundation for white supremacy, as these groups are presented not only as threats to public safety, but also to the moral structure of the country itself. .

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In 1739, the Stono Rebellion in South Carolina, led by enslaved people from the Congo, sent shock waves through the American South. It was the largest uprising in the North American colonies before the American Revolution. The uprising began on Sunday, September 9, while white residents were in church. The leaders of the uprising used African drums and religious rituals, waving white flags and banners while chanting “Freedom!” as they rallied others to their cause. Between 60 and 100 would unite for freedom, burning houses and killing white masters as they moved south along the King’s Highway. Although a standoff with a large group of gathered whites eventually ended the rebellion, some Stono rebels evaded capture for six months.

In the aftermath, the white planter class weaponized the religious aspects of the uprising and depicted black people as savage, predatory, and dangerous. The mainly Protestant white planters blamed the merger of Spanish Catholicism with African religions for the rebellion, arguing that the “black Christians of the Congo” were likely influenced by Spanish ideas mixed with the military skills they brought from Africa . These images fueled the creation of slave patrols, led to increased armaments among the local white population, and contributed to the enactment of the Negro Act of 1740, which further restricted slaves from growing their own food, gathering in groups, generating of income or acquiring literacy.

The response to the Stono Rebellion laid the foundation for Antebellum slave codes, as stories of successful maroon settlements, slave revolts in the Caribbean, and the vast majority of whites by blacks were infused with tales of threatening medicine men and black magic. During the Antebellum period, black religions were demonized as evil and dangerous, which strengthened the moral and (white) religious justification for slavery and the weaponization of white society under the pretext that these spiritual practices posed a threat to the racial social order.

Ideas of “savage” and “backward” African religions resurfaced during the Haitian Revolution of 1804 – the first and only successful slave uprising in the Americas, which led to the establishment of Haiti as a free black nation. The revolution, rooted in a Vodou ceremony, heightened fears among whites that black religious practices were the catalyst for black liberation. In August 1791, a large gathering of enslaved rebels took place in the mountains of Bois Caiman (Bwa Kayiman) in Haiti, led by Dutty Boukman, a Vodou priest (hougan) and revolutionary leader, included a prayer to the Vodou spirits calling for “freedom or death.” This gathering followed in the footsteps of François Mackandal, a former enslaved leader of a fugitive black settlement, and Vodou houngan, who was infamous for burning plantations and attacking white rulers under the cover of night.

“Nothing is more dangerous,” 18th-century French Creole writer Moreau de St. Méry declared of Haiti’s “voodoo cult.” He told fantastic and terrifying stories that he described as a “system of domination” that “can be made into a terrible weapon.”

The Haitian Revolution has been described by scholars as the realization of white slave owners’ worst nightmare: black rule. For white rulers, this was not just a local rebellion, but a threat to the global rule of white supremacy. Therefore, the punishment for Haiti’s resistance has been severe and prolonged. In 1824, Haiti agreed to pay France 150 million francs in reparations for the loss of human property – an exorbitant debt that took 122 years to pay off. In fact, the poverty that persists in Haiti today is directly related to this economic strangulation.

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But that’s not all. Culturally and politically, Haitians have been continually demonized, reinforcing the original lie of white supremacy: that slavery was not a brutal system of exploitation, but a benevolent project that benefited the enslaved. White Europeans convinced themselves that they were saving the souls of Africans by enslaving, civilizing, and converting them to Christianity. Black religions, such as Vodou and Santería, became prime targets in this civilizing mission, which was demonized as pagan, savage, and dangerous. Anti-blackness and anti-Africanism thus became embedded in the white collective subconscious.

As historian Danielle Boaz shows, during Reconstruction, narratives of “voodoo” were mobilized to oppose the emancipation of slaves and the extension of citizenship to African Americans. Anti-Voodoo rhetoric fueled fear of black people in New Orleans and other Southern cities, portraying the religions as evil instigators of slave revolts. In The mysteries and misery of America’s great cities (1888), journalist JW Buel exposed voodoo in New Orleans through sensational stories of terrifying rituals involving drums, sexual orgies, snakes and black cats, further fueling fears of black magic and violence. Black religions were wrongly associated with “devil worship,” sexual degeneracy, the murder of white people, and anarchist behavior. In 1901, a New York Times The article entitled “Haiti: Land of the Voodoo” argued that the country was ruled by the drum and animal sacrifices were practiced as a form of governance to justify US military intervention.

Such ideas have persisted in modern America, with dangerous consequences. In the 1980s, stigmas of black and brown “boat people” circulated with stories of contaminated blood and “voodoo” religions contributing to attempted deportations of Haitians and captured Cuban refugees (most of whom were black) and those in the 1980s had arrived. Mariel Bootlift. At the same time, the U.S. government used unsubstantiated rumors linking Vodou rituals to the outbreak of the AIDS pandemic as a pretext to mandate HIV testing for Haitian asylum seekers. These misconceptions, which combined notions of blood contamination with misplaced fears about Vodou religions, played a role in the creation of a detention camp for refugees with HIV. A 1983 policy from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention banned blood donations from the so-called ‘Four H Club’ (homosexuals, hemophiliacs, heroin users and Haitians).”

Police have also participated in reinforcing these racist stereotypes. The 1980s saw the rise of yet another conspiracy theory, the Satanic Panic, a mass public hysteria that grew out of evangelical fears and linked claims of ritual abuse from ‘cult’ to Heavy Metal music, youth gaming culture and alternative religions. Law enforcement agencies, evangelicals and child psychologists were convinced that an underground network of Satanists was abusing children and killing people. Afro-Caribbean religions such as Vodou, Santería and Palo Monte were demonized during the Satanic Panic, with practitioners falsely accused of animal and child abuse.

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These lies, which were eventually debunked, nevertheless caused widespread damage. For example, in Hialeah, Florida, the city attempted to ban Santería through a series of ordinances targeting animal sacrifice, a core component of the religion’s practice. In 1993, the Supreme Court ruled Church of Lukumi Babalu Aye against the city of Hialeah that the city’s ordinances violated Santería practitioners’ First Amendment rights. Despite this ruling, Afro-Caribbean religions continue to face legal and social attacks, with their freedom to practice their faith always conditional.

The power of such baseless accusations from Trump and Vance lies not in their factual basis, but in their resonance with long-standing racial fears about black and brown people. These fears transcend the specific moment of disinformation. Instead, they tap into a fear rooted in Christian prejudice and cultural stigma, then perpetuated by law enforcement, animal rights groups, politicians, and white communities who see nonwhite immigrants as existential threats to the purity of American neighborhoods.

Ultimately, the political attacks on Haitian migrants are about more than eating people’s pets: they are about power. By portraying black and brown people as a threat to public morality and safety, politicians like Trump and Vance can justify harsh immigration policies, police brutality, and social exclusion. These attacks tap into the same deep-seated racial fears that have shaped America since its founding, reminding us that the fight against white supremacy is far from over.

Aisha M. Beliso-De Jesús is Olden Street Professor of American Studies and chair of the Effron Center for the Study of America at Princeton University and author of Excited delirium: Race, police brutality, and the invention of disease (Duke University Press, 2024).

Made by History takes readers beyond the headlines with articles written and edited by professional historians. Read more about Made by History at TIME here. The opinions expressed do not necessarily reflect the views of TIME editors.