Father Tom ventures to help where others no longer dare

"We want our clinic workers to be safe," he begins. "It will be impossible to feed people without your help. You should be proud of yourselves - proud of what you do for your community," he tells the men, in what might charitably be described as a Philadelphia dialect of Creole.

Critics say Father Tom treats killers as community leaders. "We would be foolish to think we can steer clear of them," he explains. "The gangs are the law here, and so you need to have a relationship with them. You can't work as if in a vacuum."

The last time UN troops entered Cité Soleil was in early July, looking for a top gang leader named Emmanuel "Dread" Wilmer. Mr. Wilmer and other gang members were killed in the ensuing five-hour battle. So, too, were civilians, charges Amaral Duclona, the gangster who has taken Wilmer's place, a pudgy young man with curly hair and a surprisingly shy look in his eyes.

"There are no real police in Haiti today," says Mr. Duclona, who leads the Belcourt gang. "The police have been corrupted by the rich and they all hate us because we are Aristide followers," he says referring to former President Jean-Bertrand Aristide, ousted in 2004. All efforts to "get something out of this life," he complains to Father Tom, "...are being blocked by those who hate us and those who don't hear us."

"I hear you," says Father Tom, and moves on. "I have a dream that we will get together next week and make a joint proclamation of nonviolence," he says. "I understand you can't just throw your weapons out.... But I think a proclamation of nonviolence would be a good idea," he suggests. "What do you think?"

A few of the gangsters seem to be listening. One claps. The majority look bored. Evans Jean, leader of the Boston gang, a lithe man with two gold front teeth, who is rumored to have beheaded a man last month, gets up to talk on his mobile phone.

"Sure it's different from Princeton," says Father Tom, reinventing the meaning of understatement. "But not as different as you might think." Young people have a lot in common, he insists, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes: People are intrinsically good. People have senses of humor and people want to see the beauty in life.

In fact, muses Father Tom, sometimes those with the vantage point of a garbage dump manage to see more beauty around them than those in ivory towers. "People at the Ivy Leagues sometimes take themselves too seriously," he says, pointing out that during his time at Princeton there were several suicides. "Here, I have not seen anyone give up and kill themselves.

"I believe you have many things in common with those you think are your enemies, those you call the bourgeoisie," Father Tom tells the gangsters. "If you look into their hearts and minds they have the same sadness and frustrations you do. They don't know you, right. But you don't know them, either." He "begs," them, he says, "to see good in people and take responsibility," for their actions.

Does the message get through? The priest shrugs. He is the first to admit it's an everyday struggle. A dozen Hands Together staff members have been murdered over the years. Eight students in his schools have also died violently, including one hacked to death with a machete. The 2-year-old daughter of his assistant Jin Liphete was shot to death by gunmen who came looking for her father when he wasn't home.

Mr. Liphete used to live in Cité Soleil. When he made enough money, he moved out, never thinking he would come back.

"It's a job, first of all," he says, explaining the motivation to work for Hands Together. "And also," he admits, "When you see Father Tom doing so much for the people, and he's not even from here ... it gets you thinking," he says.

"This is my country sinking," concludes Liphete, as the gangsters get up and slap each other high-fives before heading out. "So, I'm thinking: Maybe I should do something too."

• Ms. Harman is Latin America bureau chief for the Monitor and USA Today.

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