By Daniela Mohor, Dumas Maçon, and Nyaboga Kiage
The Kenya-led security support mission to Haiti is, at present, unfit for purpose. More than six months after deploying to help police wrest back control, rampant gangs have gained more territory and power while access to vital humanitarian aid for desperate civilians has dwindled.
But how come, and what next?
A months-long investigation by The New Humanitarian and Kenya’s Nation newspaper reveals that a large part of the failure is down to the mission’s lack of resources, but also that it was arguably mission impossible from the start.
The Multinational Security Support (MSS) mission was approved by the UN Security Council in October 2023 – more than two years after the assassination of President Jovenel Moïse sent the Haitian capital, Port-au-Prince, spiralling downwards into new levels of lawlessness.
It then took the best part of a year for the United States, the main financial backer of the venture, to secure Kenyan leadership of the mission and push things forward – given little apparent appetite from international partners and considerable opposition in Kenya and Haiti.
The mission was initially slated to be composed of 2,500 officers and soldiers, but the 400 Kenyan police deployed in late June 2024 have largely been left alone to help the outmanned and outgunned Haitian National Police (PNH) combat heavily armed gangs who know the streets of the capital well and control nearly all of them.
A new batch of 150 Guatemalan military police officers landed in Port-au-Prince in early January, but most countries that pledged support to the MSS mission have failed to follow through. While nearly 590 foreign security force personnel are now deployed in the Caribbean nation, the mission remains severely underfunded and ill-equipped.
“I heard there were Kenyans in the country, but where are they? Why are they in Haiti if we don’t see any difference?”
Hopes of restoring some semblance of governance are also fading: The Transitional Presidential Council created in April 2024 to pave the way for the country’s first elections since 2016 has failed to advance its agenda due to near-constant political infighting. For millions of Haitians affected by the violence, daily life has simply gone from bad to worse.
“Since the mission’s arrival, gangs have taken several villages and at least seven key towns that had been spared,” said Himmler Rébu, a retired Haitian army colonel and former presidential candidate. “We’ve had massacres; thousands of families have been displaced.”
In 2024, at least 5,600 people were killed in Haiti due to gang violence – about 1,000 more than in 2023 – and 2,212 were injured, according to the UN.
Last year, the number of displaced people surged to nearly 703,000 (6% of Haiti’s overall population of 11.5 million), with 25% of them living in makeshift camps, where they are exposed to infectious diseases, and where women and girls are especially vulnerable to sexual violence. In 39% of those sites, the displaced have no access to drinking water and receive no humanitarian assistance, according to a new report by the National Human Rights Defense Network in Haiti (RNDDH). About 1.5 million children have also lost access to education – many of them end up being recruited by gangs.
Access for those trying to deliver humanitarian aid is increasingly difficult. Even better-off neighbourhoods considered safe not so long ago are now being targeted by gangs. Hospitals and health centres are also increasingly coming under attack.
“The bandits came and showed no mercy,” Eliamise Jean, a 32-year-old resident of the Solino neighbourhood, told The New Humanitarian. “A woman in her thirties and another – eight months pregnant – were shot dead in my area. Many houses and cars were looted and burned.”
Jean now lives in a displacement camp with the youngest of her three children. She said she has seen no difference since the Kenyans landed. “I heard there were Kenyans in the country, but where are they?” she asked. “Why are they in Haiti if we don’t see any difference?”
Mission impossible
The MSS deployment faced plenty of scepticism from the get-go. There were doubts about the funding, the mission’s mandate, and the suitability of the Kenyan police force to lead it, especially given that most officers don’t speak French, let alone Haitian Kreyol.
A judge in the East African country initially halted the deployment, ruling that it was “unconstitutional”, but President William Ruto bypassed the court order by signing a direct agreement with Haitian Prime Minister Ariel Henry in Nairobi on 1 March 2024.
While Henry was in Kenya, the Viv Ansanm (Living Together) gang coalition launched a coordinated assault on police stations, prisons, and the international airport. With the airport under siege, Henry was unable to return, and on 11 March he announced his resignation, which led the following month to the setting up of the Transitional Presidential Council.
The New Humanitarian interviewed a wide range of security experts, policymakers, and key Haitian observers for this investigation. Nearly all noted that the Kenyan police have been placed in an untenable position.
“This type of intervention has been tried since 1935,” said George Musamali, a Kenyan security expert who was formerly a senior officer in an elite Kenyan police unit. “The Americans started and left without achieving anything. The UN [MINUSTAH] was there with 17,000 strong Brazilian military officers who also left. It is a totally impossible mission.”
Wary of the lack of results, foreign governments have been reluctant to stump up the money they pledged to the mission’s trust fund. According to several sources, it now has around $100 million — far less than the $600 million needed. There are concerns that the United States, which promised $300 million, may pull back once Donald Trump takes office next week.
William O’Neill, the UN’s top expert on human rights in Haiti, described it as something of a Catch-22 situation. “Until the mission shows success, countries are reluctant to commit more,” he said. “But without more personnel on the ground, success is impossible, and you’re not going to have more people sent until there is some money. It’s a terrible dynamic.”
Even Kenya is yet to deploy an additional 600 pledged officers to Haiti. They have finished their training, and Ruto had initially said they would travel by the end of November, but that deadline has long passed and they are still in Nairobi.
Benin, which had offered the largest contingent of up to 2,000 soldiers, put its deployment on hold last September, arguing that Haiti’s situation demanded a military solution and that its soldiers would not take orders from a police force. Meanwhile, six Bahamian military officers sent to Port-au-Prince as an advance team (ahead of the deployment of 150 more) received an authorisation for voluntary withdrawal from their government, meaning they can leave if they feel unsafe. “No one is going to be put in harm’s way,” the Bahamian foreign minister said. The government of Barbados also disengaged from its commitment to send troops, and announced earlier this month that it would limit its support to technical assistance.
Maria Isabel Salvador, head of BINUH, the UN’s political mission in Haiti, told The New Humanitarian she believes the MSS was flawed from the start. Instead of being “based on demand”, it is based on “what countries offered”, she said. “The 2,500 figure came from adding up offers of certain numbers by countries, instead of really assessing actual needs, what is objectively required. Somehow, no clear diagnosis of the situation was made, so no gaps or needs were addressed.”
President Joe Biden’s administration has been pushing to transform the MSS into a formal UN peacekeeping mission to secure a proper budget and more personnel, but Russia and China have repeatedly vetoed the US request at the UN Security Council.
“The mission has run into headwinds,” said Evans Ogada, one of the Kenyan lawyers who filed the court petition to halt the deployment. “It is a wait-and-see situation for the future of the mission.”
Woefully under-resourced
While the gangs appear able to smuggle large amounts of heavy weaponry and ammunition into Haiti with ease – mostly from the United States – the Kenyan and Haitian police forces are short of equipment and lack both air and maritime support.
The US military has been sending dozens of MaxxPro Mine-Resistant Ambush Protected (MRAP) vehicles to Haiti, but several security experts told The New Humanitarian they weren’t really effective. “These are not tanks. They are vehicles made to transport troops, but they are used for combat and easily catch fire when gangs throw Molotov cocktails,” one expert who used to work at the Haitian Department of Defense said, speaking on condition of anonymity.
O’Neill said half of the vehicles were out of commission in October because gangs shot at their tyres, which are not made of reinforced rubber.
A member of the Haitian police’s specialised UTAG anti-gang unit told The New Humanitarian that Haitian officers sometimes have to borrow weapons from other units during operations because there is so little funding.
“We conduct operations in shanty towns, where there are old constructions and threats can come from anywhere,” he said, again speaking on condition of anonymity. “We need tactical vehicles, including tanks to enter gang-controlled areas; we need ballistic helmets, bulletproof vests, ammunition in large quantities, and at least two helicopters.”
In November, in response to emailed questions from The New Humanitarian, a spokesperson for the State Department confirmed that the US was continuing to provide both the Haitian police and the MSS with logistical support and equipment. This included three dozen MRAPs, material for the refurbishment of bases and MEDEVAC assistance, as well as radios, night-vision goggles, drones, computers, ammunition, and police riot response gear. But there was no mention of combat vehicles.
On the ground, the reality is that the number of police officers remains minimal compared to the size of the gangs, which continue to actively recruit from Haiti’s largely young, unemployed, and desperate population.
“The [MSS] mission always arrives at the front outnumbered, and there is a huge deficit in intelligence,” said Rébu, the retired Haitian colonel. “As I see it, the Kenyans were sent to be butchered. They were lured into accepting to lead in a situation that no police force can solve.”
The Haitian police and the MSS do occasionally regain territory from gangs, but they are often forced to pull out again soon afterwards, simply allowing the armed groups to move back in.
“They can’t stay after dark because they lack forward [operating] bases,” said O’Neill.
According to Rébu, the Haitian army – reinstated in 2017 to help fight gangs – is supposed to guard the areas retaken by the police but often lacks the personnel, equipment, and ammunition to hold its positions.
Clarens Renois is the general coordinator of the National Union for the Integrity and Reconciliation (UNIR) party – part of one of the coalitions that has a seat on the Transitional Presidential Council. He pointed out that while the Haitian government was tasked with creating a National Security Council to develop a strategic plan, the decree establishing it was only published in late December, and for political and technical reasons it may be a long time before its members are designated. “There is no [National] Security Council yet. The police, both Kenyan and Haitian, operate in a disjointed, patchwork manner,” he said.
Compounding these difficulties is the disappointment of the population. Some Haitians go as far as accusing Kenyan police of being “on vacation”.
“They have not yet entered the Haitian reality. They are mostly warm in their hotel on the road to the airport,” said one young resident of Port-au-Prince whose identity is being protected for security reasons. “The situation has not improved at all with them. It has gotten worse.”
One of the deployed Kenyan police officers agreed to an interview with The New Humanitarian, but only if he was quoted anonymously as he wasn’t supposed to talk to the media. “The Haitian population does not yet understand well what we are doing. They are waiting for results,” he said. “But they must understand that more than 80% of the Ouest Department [around Port-au-Prince] is under gang control. This would require a massive deployment and large-scale operations, and neither the [Haitian police] nor the MSS have the means for that.”
“Everything must be eliminated”
The problems are political too.
The Transitional Presidential Council has been dogged by corruption allegations against three of its members who refuse to step down, and power struggles led the council in November to fire Garry Conille, the prime minister it had designated in late May – all of which just provides more political oxygen to the gangs.
The armed groups have also been acting in a more coordinated and unified manner, often attacking simultaneously on several fronts, displacing thousands of people, sometimes in a matter of days. They now control at least 85% of the capital and the area around it, as well as all the main highways out of Port-au-Prince and large parts of the neighbouring Artibonite department.
Following Conille’s ouster, violence escalated to the point that several planes were hit after gangs opened fire on them, prompting the US Federal Aviation Administration to ban all flights into Port-au-Prince until March 2025, further isolating the capital.
“The gangs are very powerful,” said Renois. “I have talked to young people who live in gang-controlled areas, and they told me that [the gangs] have plenty of weapons and munitions and that they can resist much longer.”
It’s no surprise that Haitians have increasingly felt the need to protect themselves. A vigilante movement known as the Bwa Kale, and whose members systematically kill and burn people they suspect of being gang members, has grown significantly in recent months.
“The Bwa Kale is gaining more and more strength; we see more lynching and more attacks, including in coordination with members of the [Haitian police], who are also desperate for support,” a source close to the UN told The New Humanitarian.
A Haitian politician, who also requested to speak anonymously, said the anarchic situation is leading many frustrated police officers to simply “eliminate” any potential enemy.
“They say: ‘there is no prison, there is no justice system’. So, as soon as they catch someone, they kill them or deliver them to the Bwa Kale population,” he said. “The policy is that everything must be eliminated because there is no other measure to get rid of the suspects who come from lawless neighbourhoods.”
Just walking in the street without identity papers can be enough to raise suspicion.
The growing strength of the Bwa Kale is, in turn, enraging gang leaders and leading to clashes that some are already describing as a “civil war”.
An appalling example of the level of violence is the massacre of Pont-Sondé that saw at least 115 people slaughtered in October when a gang leader took revenge on a local self-defence group for attempting to counter his group’s activities in the area. On 10 December, the same gang (the Gran Grif) killed at least 20 people in reprisal for the lynching of 10 of their members by the Bwa Kale movement in the Artibonite department.
“We have a youth that has been abandoned by successive governments. There have been no policies to give them any occupation, be it professional, cultural, or sport activities.”
Despite such massacres, gangs still have a strong appeal among parts of the population, especially the young. Hunger and devastation are driving more and more children and teenagers to join their ranks. The armed groups are also taking advantage of years of poor governance and the current political vacuum to spread a political discourse that resonates with young people who have no good options.
“We have a youth that has been abandoned by successive governments,” said Renois. “There have been no policies to give them any occupation, be it professional, cultural, or sport activities. So, they don’t [see a future for] themselves in the state, and they experience a feeling of revolt that can lead to anything.”
Jimmy Chérizier – alias Barbecue – the leader of Viv Ansanm, presents himself as a follower of Argentine revolutionary Che Guevara, and as a provider for those in need. After his base was attacked by the MSS and the Haitian police in November, he circulated a video complaining about the destruction of his property, including his swimming pool, which he claimed to have built “for children in the area”.
According to UNICEF, minors now make up around half of the gang members. Child recruitment rose by 70% in 2024 compared to 2023.
Chérizier has been a political player for years and is now wielding that power to demand a seat at the table in Haiti’s political transition. On 2 January, he announced that he had turned his gang coalition into a political party, although this new entity has no legal backing.
Little room for aid
As the security crisis escalates, Haiti’s humanitarian situation continues to deteriorate. According to the World Food Programme, 5.4 million Haitians – nearly half the population – don’t have enough to eat. Two million of them face emergency levels of food insecurity.
In the Artibonite region, considered the country’s breadbasket, agricultural production has been severely disrupted as farmers “face intimidation, restricted access, and land disputes”, according to a new Mercy Corps report. Limited production is forcing Haitians to depend on imports for survival, but the prices are often too high for families to afford. The closure of the airport and of key seaports is also making provision difficult.
Ricardo Arduengo/Reuters
A woman displaced by gang violence cooks in a makeshift kitchen at Port-au-Prince’s Antenor Firmin high school, which was transformed into a shelter, and where people continue to live in poor conditions, on 1 May 2024.
“The concomitant issues of gang intimidation, poor road conditions, and limited market availability are undermining Haiti’s ability to sustain its agricultural base, further threatening food security in the long term,” the report says.
Compounding the crisis is the fact that aid groups face insurmountable barriers.
In late October, a UN helicopter used by the WFP to provide assistance was forced into an emergency landing after gangs fired on it. Two weeks later, Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF) was forced to suspend its operations after Haitian police officers and the Bwa Kale attacked one of its ambulances, killing at least two people and threatening their staff. They have since resumed their activities, except those requiring emergency transportation.
A month later, the escalation of gang attacks in Port-au-Prince forced aid groups and UN agencies to urgently relocate or evacuate staff.
Mercy Corps relocated some international staff to other regions and temporarily suspended activities in the capital. It has been able to maintain its programmes in rural areas of the Nippes and Grand’Anse departments, including food assistance, support for farmers to improve productivity, and cash distribution. But it fears even this may not last, as the platform for these programmes relies on imported tools to function.
“Now, with the international airport and the main seaport not accessible, field operations may also be affected in the near future,” said Laurent Uwumuremyi, the organisation’s country director. “We are deeply concerned about the isolation of Port-au-Prince from the rest of Haiti and the world.”
The director of another NGO working in Haiti, who asked to speak anonymously to avoid worsening access issues, explained how – even before reaching the gangs’ checkpoints – aid groups have to go through those set up by the Haitian police and the Bwa Kale. “With them, negotiations for access are harder, because there is now a tendency to consider that NGOs support gangs,” he explained.
Access to healthcare has also become extremely limited, even as injuries soar and sexual violence against women and girls has reached unprecedented levels. Only 37% of health facilities in Port-au-Prince are fully operational, and managing to get to one in a city that is effectively in a state of constant siege is a whole other challenge.
In December, part of Bernard Mevs Hospital, a key trauma centre, was ransacked and destroyed. A week later, the reopening of the Hôpital General, Haiti’s largest health centre, ended in bloodshed – five months after the Haitian police managed to retake it from gangs.
“The majority of the medical structures still functioning are private,” said Jean-Marc Biquet, MSF’s head of mission in Haiti. “Haitians suffering more than ever from the economic crisis can’t afford it, so access to care is almost at zero. It is a catastrophe.”
“The relationship isn’t always cordial”
Given the risks they face, the lack of healthcare is a major concern for Haitian police and has become a source of unease with Kenyan officers.
According to the RNDDH, 34 Haitian police officers were killed in 2024.
Neither Kenyan nor Haitian authorities have been vocal about the number of casualties on the Kenyan side, but Jack Mbaka, the spokesperson for the MSS, told The New Humanitarian on 10 January that the force has lost no officer so far and that typically there “were just slight injuries due to ricochets [that] are usually managed any time they occur”.
Mbaka added that there was one officer who had wounds serious enough for them to be flown to the Dominican Republic for medical treatment.
However, this potentially life-saving evacuation allowance, which was included in the MSS mission’s protocols, is not available to Haitian police.
“One day a Kenyan police officer was injured and quickly healed in the Dominican Republic, but some time later a Haitian police officer from the SWAT team was wounded during an operation and died due to lack of care. This created a lot of turmoil,” said the UTAG policeman.
There are other tensions too.
“The relationship isn’t always cordial,” said Ricardo Germain, a Haitian security expert based in Port-au-Prince. “Mistrust is an important factor and is sometimes due to the language barrier. During joint patrolling operations, Haitian police officers speak Kreyol and the Kenyans Swahili language, while English and French were supposed to be the spoken languages.” Some Kenyan officers have recently started classes in basic Kreyol, he added.
Haitian police say they also resent the fact that they are underpaid compared to the Kenyans – about $230 a month versus $1,000, according to the UTAG policeman.
But the Kenyans have faced their own financial hurdles too. In June 2024, when the first batch of officers left for Haiti, some said they were given about $155 each a month, around one fifth of what they had been promised.
Two months later, several relatives of the deployed Kenyan police told the Nation, speaking on condition of anonymity, that the school year was about to start but officers weren’t sending back money for the fees as expected.
In August, when the Nation reported complaints about the payments, a relative of one officer said the rest of the family in Nairobi was struggling to meet basic needs. “We have a challenge here, because even paying for meals and other bills has started becoming difficult,” said the relative, who spoke on condition of anonymity.
After the complaints were reported, the officers received their salary in a matter of days, and the leadership of Kenya’s National Police Service (NPS) apologised for the delays. However, the issue resurfaced in early December when Reuters reported that 20 Kenyan officers had submitted letters of resignation over pay delays and poor conditions, which General Godfrey Otunge, the MSS mission commander, has strongly denied.
What next?
With each passing week, the risks the Haitian police and the deployed Kenyan officers are facing in and around Port-au-Prince become more extreme.
Although several sources told The New Humanitarian that Kenyans initially refused to engage directly during operations and preferred to remain in the armoured vehicles while the Haitians were on the ground, others said they had recently noticed a change in the dynamics.
“In the past few weeks, the [Haitian police’s] work has been more coordinated, more strategic, and the MSS has met the needs more adequately,” said Salvador, from the UN’s political mission.
In an interview with the Nation in mid-December, Otunge highlighted that Kenyan officers – along with the Haitian police – have managed to recapture several police stations taken by gangs, and that they came close to arresting Chérizier in November during a major police operation in his Bas Delmas stronghold.
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But these minor victories do little to quieten a growing chorus of voices looking now for almost any alternative.
Given the lack of funding, some, including RNDDH Executive Director Pierre Espérance, say a formal UN peacekeeping mission is now the only way forward. “A peacekeeping mission would be much better than the MSS because, as a UN mission, it will receive more contributions,” he said. “The lack of means is directly related to the fact that it isn’t one.”
Others would prefer Haitians to find their own solution.
“Previous peacekeeping missions are responsible for plunging Haiti into the current situation, and we know it will take one year for the case for a new one to be analysed, only to get an answer we already know,” said Rébu. “It belongs to Haitians to take charge of their problem, because it is Haitian women and young girls who are raped, Haitians who are getting killed, and Haitian families who have nowhere left to go.”
Dumas Maçon reported from Port-au-Prince, Haiti. Nyaboga Kiage reported from Nairobi, Kenya. Additional reporting from Daniela Mohor in Santiago, Chile. Edited by Andrew Gully.
This article was first published by the New Humanitarian: