Haiti’s collapse into anarchy and gang violence has exacted a terrible human price. Almost half the Caribbean nation’s population is suffering acute hunger, thousands are homeless and life expectancy at birth has sunk to 63 years. How did a country less than 800 miles from Florida turn into a failed state and what can be done to restore a functioning government?
Haiti’s history of crisis is long and complex but the still-unsolved assassination of President Jovenel Moïse in 2021 detonated the latest episode. A caretaker prime minister backed by the international community, Ariel Henry, proved unable to govern and unwilling to hold elections. Tens of thousands of Haitians voted with their feet, emigrating to the US or elsewhere in Latin America. The country’s institutions largely ceased to function. No democratically elected representatives remain. Drug traffickers and arms dealers profited from the chaos.
The international community has not ignored Haiti’s plight. The US and the Caribbean grouping Caricom have tried to broker a new government and muster a multinational security force to restore order. The spectre of previous failed foreign interventions in Haiti over the past 30 years — two by the US and two by the UN — complicated their task: few governments want to risk their reputations in the quagmire. Latin American governments have been conspicuous by their absence.
A glimmer of hope emerged this month, when the US and Caricom secured agreement from Henry to cede power to a seven-member transitional council drawn from politics, civil society and business. The council would appoint an interim government with a mandate to hold elections as soon as practicable. A Kenyan-led security force would provide much-needed support to Haiti’s outnumbered, outgunned and demoralised police. The US pledged $300mn to underwrite the cost.
But as the international discussions on Haiti inched forward, the gangs were creating facts on the ground. This month they seized the opportunity afforded by Henry’s absence in Kenya discussing the security force to unite, break open jails, attack the airport and terrorise the population.
The gangs have metastasised in recent years from private militia operating on behalf of political barons to more independent forces harbouring political aspirations. Gang leaders like ex-police officer Jimmy “Barbecue” Cherizier have exploited Haitians’ revulsion at the venality of the country’s elite to present themselves as alternative leaders.
Unsurprisingly, the gangs reject the transition council plan and have threatened those who take part: their interest is in growing their own power and continuing their trade in drugs, arms, kidnapping and extortion.
If the transitional council can start work — an uncertain prospect amid death threats against its nominees and constant substitutions of names — and the Kenyan-led security force can be deployed quickly to support it, Haiti has a chance of securing a functioning government. But those are big “ifs”.
There are concerns the international police force is not large or strong enough to restore order. There are also worries over the transitional council’s ability to reach consensus and its legitimacy is open to question, since its members are largely drawn from the country’s discredited elite.
Yet the reality is that the US-Caricom plan is the only one on the table, with no obvious alternatives. Increasing the muscle of the international security force and deploying it as quickly as possible would give the Haitian-led political process at least a fighting chance. The alternative is Somalia in the Caribbean.
