“An estimated 90% of Port-au-Prince is now under control of criminal groups,” reported Ghada Fathy Waly, executive director of the U.N. Office on Drugs and Crime, at a recent Security Council meeting. That’s not just a headline—it’s a seismic shift in who holds power in Haiti, and it’s sending shockwaves through every layer of society.
This isn’t just about violence. It’s about gangs stepping into the shoes of a failing state, setting up their own systems for everything from food distribution to security. As the state’s grip slips, criminal groups are “establishing parallel governance structures,” Waly explained, and the result is a country where the price of rice—Haiti’s staple food—has soared by more than 30% since 2022, and cooking fuel now sells for up to $5 per gallon on the black market (source).
The roots of this crisis run deep. The assassination of President Jovenel Moïse in July 2021 left a gaping political vacuum. Since then, the government has failed to hold elections, and competing political ambitions and corruption have paralyzed any hope of progress (source). In the absence of legitimate authority, gangs have become the de facto rulers, controlling trade routes, ports, and even parts of the capital’s administrative core.
What’s even more alarming is how private security companies and vigilante groups have mushroomed in response to the chaos. Some of these groups claim to protect their communities, but many are acting illegally—and in some cases, colluding with the very gangs they’re supposed to fight. “Over the last three months, these groups reportedly killed at least 100 men and one woman suspected of gang association or collaboration,” U.N. Assistant Secretary-General Miroslav Jenca told the council (source). The line between law enforcement and lawlessness is dangerously blurred: the Haitian National Police themselves have been implicated in 281 summary executions in 2024, including 22 women and 8 children.
For those tracking the international response, the picture is equally grim. The much-heralded U.N.-backed mission led by Kenyan police is operating at less than half strength, with only about 40% of the 2,500 personnel originally envisioned on the ground (source). Proposals for non-lethal support—drones, fuel, and transport—have stalled in the Security Council, leaving the mission underfunded and exposed. As Kenya’s delegate warned, “the mission is operating at less than 30 per cent capacity, exposing it to serious risks.”
Meanwhile, arms trafficking networks continue to pump weapons into Haiti, despite a U.N. embargo. The bulk of these guns come from the United States, often trafficked through Florida and hidden in shipments of food and clothes. “The vast majority of the 200 containers heading from South Florida to Haiti every week are not inspected,” a U.N. panel noted (source). Cross-border smuggling with the Dominican Republic is rampant, and even senior customs officials have been implicated in moving illegal arms.
This toxic mix of political paralysis, unchecked violence, and a flood of foreign weapons has left ordinary Haitians in the crossfire. Over a million people have fled their homes, and half the population now faces acute hunger (source). The international community’s response, described by one Caribbean delegate as “tepid at best,” has failed to match the urgency of the crisis.
As the world watches, Haiti’s future remains deeply uncertain. The country’s fate now hinges on whether international actors can overcome bureaucratic inertia and whether Haiti’s own fractured leadership can reclaim authority from the gangs that have, for now, become its shadow government.
