Commentary Recent headlines about Haiti have reminded me of my summer internship there in 1975. I “grew up” in Haiti, in the sense that I learned what it means to live in a police state. Before that, I lived in a cocoon of simplistic theory. My Ivy League education had taught me that America was the cause of all problems, so everything could be fixed by “changing the system.” After my internship in Haiti, I saw that life was more complicated. My visceral memory of Haiti is reading a book with the cover ripped off, and hiding it under the bed before falling asleep at night. It was a book about Haiti’s secret police, the “Tontons Macoutes.” Getting caught with the book could land everyone in the house in jail. I was not being paranoid—I was being a good guest. The person I rented the room from gave me the book …