In Haiti, Slipping Through Embargo’s Net : Sanctions: For nation’s poor, boycott is fatally effective. But for elite, it is little more than a bother.

The morning haze hid them at first, but as the sun burned through they could be seen: three freighters waiting in the harbor to unload cargo sent here in violation of a U.S.-backed economic embargo.

That same day, two more ships, sailing from Miami, docked at the northwestern Haitian port of Gonaives. They dropped off cosmetics, bicycles, tires and badly needed motor oil.

It was the same story at the southern port of Petit Goaves. Two ships unloaded contraband, this time from Venezuela, while three rusty freighters prepared to ship out, bound for Miami carrying rum and, some experts say, drugs.

Every day from seaports and airports around the world, including the United States, goods are shipped to Haiti. Nearly all of this cargo violates the Organization of American States embargo imposed in November to force the Haitian military to restore President Jean-Bertrand Aristide to office. Aristide, Haiti’s first democratically elected president, was overthrown and replaced by a puppet civilian regime Sept. 30.

In general terms--especially as it affects the 90% of the population living in dire poverty--the embargo has effectively destroyed Haiti’s economy. But if the goal of the embargo was to force a political change here, it has failed, at least for now.

Outside the large cities, there are shortages of food, drugs, transport and jobs. Haitians are dying of malnutrition, and famine afflicts large sections of the countryside. For these people, the freighters from Miami, the containers of French wine and cosmetics, even the motor oil are of little help. The embargo is fatally effective.

But for the people who count--the military, the government and its employees and the social and business elite--the boycott is little more than a bother, something that drives prices up, nothing to worry about.

“If you have the money, you can get what you want,” a young businessman said. He discussed his situation after calling the United States on a direct international telephone line operated by AT&T.; He had ordered $21,000 worth of Toyoto auto parts from a company in Miami that specializes in shipping products to Haiti in violation of the embargo. “I get the parts in two or three days,” the 28-year-old said. “No problem.”

Neither is there a problem for a Radio Shack dealer here, who orders what he needs from the same Miami company. Nor are there embargo concerns at the Publics Super Market in Petionville, home of most of the elite; as major supporters of the Sept. 30 coup, they are supposed to be the embargo’s targets. But the shelves in their market are full of New Zealand and Danish butter, wine from France, U.S.-brand cookies and breakfast foods packaged in Vene zuela, fancy canned goods from the Netherlands and smoked salmon from Canada.

Most damaging to the embargo’s effectiveness is the ease with which select Haitians can get fuel at filling stations. If there was ever a hope of driving the military and its allies to their knees, most economic experts agree, it was by keeping oil and gasoline from reaching Haiti.

Yet every four to five weeks since December, at least one large oil tanker ties up at an offshore pipeline in the Port-au-Prince harbor and unloads gasoline, diesel fuel, lubricating oil and other petroleum products. The last tanker had so much fuel when it arrived in early June that it took more than a week to unload and the cargo exceeded local storage capacity. “And there is far more here than what you see coming in,” one Western official said.

In the way of the world here, this abundance is not shared or apportioned; the fuel is simply kept where the rich can get it easily in the large cities and sold relatively cheaply, at less than $2 a gallon.

All the supplies come in despite supposedly tightened enforcement, including threats by the United States to deny entry to U.S. ports of any ship that docks in Haiti and pressure on non-OAS countries to abide by the boycott.

For instance, a recent oil tanker docking here was owned by Russians, registered in the Bahamas and flying a Senegalese flag. It carried oil bought on the spot market in the Netherlands and paid for by a European front company set up by Haitian businessmen. It was loaded at Curacao, a Dutch possession in the Caribbean with no obligation to heed the embargo.

“There was no reason to fear any consequences,” one expert here said. “By the time that tanker was over the horizon, it had new owners, new registration, a new flag and a new name. No one will ever trace it.”

There are other ways to bypass the embargo. An easy one is for crew members to simply lie about their destination. This usually is done by declaring that a cargo is bound for the Dominican Republic when it really is headed to neighboring Haiti.

Another method, according to businessmen who engage in the practice, is to use legitimate exports as cover for illegal goods. For example, under an exception to the embargo, some Haitian assembly plants may import U.S.-produced raw material to be turned into finished products for shipment back to the United States. “What can be done,” said one businessman, “is to load the contraband under cotton cloth, for instance, that is legitimate. We know the customs agents in Miami can’t search most of these shipments. So, it’s easy.”

Yet another scam now in the planning stage is to buy scrap wood from Brazilian mills, press it and hide it under cargoes of rice, which is permitted as humanitarian aid.

One of the most important holes in the embargo results from what some U.S. officials say is hypocrisy. “The most serious violators are OAS members,” one expert said. “Stuff pours into Haiti from Venezuela, Jamaica, Trinidad and Brazil. And then there is the Dominican Republic.”

In the Dominican Republic, President Joaquin Balaguer has all but opened his ports and borders to boycott-busters by saying that the embargo was a mistake and should be ended. “There are trucks almost in parade coming across the (Dominican-Haitian) border,” a European diplomat said. “It’s not going to seriously weaken the embargo, but it certainly helps supply the elite and gives the military hope.”

Still, U.S. and OAS officials refuse to label the embargo a failure and call it the single best weapon they have to force the army to back down and restore Aristide. Some diplomats, while conceding that the tactic has failed to force rulers here to even negotiate seriously, let alone give up, say that “now it is starting to cut into the elite. It is having a corrosive effect.”

Private-sector leaders hurt by the embargo also predict that if the embargo holds, Aristide can be restored. But the signs they cite for such a possibility are faint and ring of wishful thinking.

Even the enforcement actions that have occurred are less than impressive. The U.S. Customs Service, for example, says it has seized 104 shipments bound illegally for Haiti since November. But the total value of the goods was only $1.1 million. Of three ships seized in May and June, one was heading to Miami with 90 cases of rum and 700 gallons of homemade liquor. Another seizure included a few tires and 300 plastic yard chairs.

The most significant confiscation was that of 282,500 pounds of motor oil. But a businessman in Haiti said that was easily made up by importing replacements from the Dominican Republic.

Even when the United States and the OAS have persuaded member countries to tighten up, the Haitians seem to find a way around the embargo, even though it costs much more. “I have a relative who imports raw materials from Europe,” a prominent Port-au-Prince lawyer said. “But his last shipment of 40 containers was stopped in the Bahamas and sent back to Europe. He then reshipped them to the Bahamas, paid some people and got the materials repackaged and onto smaller boats that came here.

“Normally, he would have paid $24,000 for transportation,” the lawyer said. “This time, it cost him $72,000 and he had no insurance.”

But when asked if this meant his relative would yield to the embargo, the lawyer smiled. “He just passes the cost to the consumer.”