In both ancient stories and modern headlines, there is a recurring tendency for society to rally behind the “outlaw” while rejecting the qualified, the polished, and the educated. This phenomenon is currently playing out in Haiti with an intensity that mirrors the most divisive moments in American politics. From the halls of the U.S. Congress to the streets of Port-au-Prince, the public seems increasingly drawn to the “strongman” archetype, even when that figure carries a heavy burden of criminal history.
The Case of Guy Philippe: The Return of the Insurrectionist
The Haitian diaspora and many within the country are currently rooting for Guy Philippe to take the presidency. To an outside observer, Philippe’s resume would be an immediate disqualification. He is a former military leader who orchestrated the 2004 insurrection that removed a democratically elected president. Furthermore, he recently returned to Haiti after serving years in a United States federal prison for money laundering and drug trafficking; these were charges to which he pleaded guilty.
Despite this, the support for Philippe is massive. In a country where elections have become a distant memory and leaders are often perceived as being hand-picked by foreign powers, the people have grown cynical. The sentiment is clear: if the system is already broken, why not support the man who has the strength to break it further? Philippe has capitalized on this by aligning himself with pro-Trump rhetoric, claiming that a shift in U.S. power toward the right will be the key to Haiti’s prosperity. By positioning himself against the “Democrats” and the “establishment,” he has turned his criminal record into a badge of revolutionary honor.
The Rejection of the Qualified: Manigat, Harris, and the Glass Ceiling
This preference for the radical over the refined is a pattern that has repeated itself with devastating consequences. In the 2010 Haitian election, the country faced a choice between Mirlande Manigat, a highly educated academic and lifelong public servant, and Michel Martelly, a pop star known for his vulgarity.
Martelly, who openly admitted to a past of selling drugs and hijacking cars in the United States, was celebrated for his “bad boy” image. During the campaign, Manigat was subjected to horrific misogyny. The public dismissed her as a “whore” and told her to “go back to the kitchen and wash dishes.” When Martelly won, the streets erupted in joy, celebrating a man who had no political experience but plenty of “strongman” charisma.
A similar dynamic was visible in the recent U.S. election. Kamala Harris, a woman with a long career as a prosecutor, Attorney General, and Vice President, was often degraded and dismissed by the same type of populist energy. Voters who were tired of the status quo under Joe Biden chose to “spit on her qualifications” in favor of a candidate they perceived as more aggressive, regardless of his record. This “incumbency fatigue” means that no matter how qualified a leader is, the public eventually grows bored or resentful, looking for the next radical alternative to disrupt the loop.
The “Plantain Man” and the Cost of Betrayal
Jovenel Moïse, often called “Nèg Bannann” or the “Plantain Man,” represents the tragic end of this cycle. He was originally a protégé of the Martelly camp, chosen because he fit the image of a humble, dark-skinned man of the people. However, when he began to distance himself from the corrupt “oligarchs” and power players who put him in office, he was quickly vilified.
Even though he lacked the aggressive, dictatorial streak of his predecessors, he was labeled a dictator by those who wanted him gone. The same diaspora that once cheered for his populist rise began spreading propaganda against him on international news channels. His assassination in 2021 was the ultimate proof that in a society that roots for criminals, loyalty is a one-way street.
The Fake Patriots and the Diaspora Gap
The problem is fueled by a specific group within the diaspora: those who were born overseas and have no lived experience of the struggle in Haiti. These “privileged motherfuckers” often claim to be experts on Haitian history because they read a few articles online. They sell a positive, idealized image of a country they have never had to survive in, and they are the first to jump on anyone who speaks the truth about the current anarchy.
These individuals are often the loudest supporters of figures like Guy Philippe. From the safety of their homes in Florida or New York, they cheer for a "revolution" that they will never have to witness. They ignore the reality of bandits seizing homes, the lack of judicial recourse, and the horrific violence that real Haitians face every day. They value the “aesthetic” of patriotism over the safety and rights of the people living there.
Conclusion: A Loop of Delusion
Haiti is currently trapped in a cycle of its own making. Society continues to choose the “Barabbas,” the criminal who promises strength, over the “Jesus,” the figure perceived as weak or overly intellectual. Until there is a cultural shift that respects women’s rights, human rights, and institutional knowledge, the country will continue to cycle through one “strongman” after another.
As long as the public remains delusional about the true nature of their leaders, the loop will remain unbroken. The next “drug dealer” or “insurrectionist” will rise, the people will cheer, and the country will stay exactly where it is: in a state of managed chaos where the only law is the gun.