From the poorest slums of one of the world’s most dangerous cities, a violent gangster is calling for a proletarian uprising in the lawless chaos of Haiti.
Jimmy Cherizier insists his nickname Babekyou – or Barbecue – comes from his mother’s roadside fried chicken joint rather than a reputation for burning people alive.
But the ex-police officer turned warlord showed a streak of political ruthlessness this week as he moved against the government, casting himself as a revolutionary acting on behalf of Haiti’s downtrodden.
His weapon: the organisation of a mass jailbreak of 3,800 prisoners while prime minister Ariel Henry was in Kenya pleading for security assistance to bring order to his state.
“The battle we are waging will not only topple the Ariel Henry government,” Cherizier declared in front of a band of balaclava-clad, rifle-wielding militiamen in a video posted on social media before the jailbreak and recent attacks on the airport and police stations. “It is a battle that will change the whole system.”
He went further on Tuesday, saying: “If Ariel Henry doesn’t step down, if the international community continues to support Ariel Henry, they will lead us directly into a civil war that will end in genocide.” Clad in a beige flak jacket during a press conference in the capital Port-au-Prince, he added: “Our goal is to break the system.”
Cherizier’s G-9 – initially a federation of nine gangs – has for years grown in strength, taking in other armed groups and filling the power vacuum left by the assassination of president Jovenal Moïse in 2021 in circumstances that remain mysterious.
Many gangs are believed to have ties to members of Haiti’s elite. The G-9 received half its income from Moïse’s government before his death, according to InSight Crime, which investigates criminal networks in Latin America.
The G-9 has recently formed an alliance with rival gangs known in Haitian Creole as the Viv Ansanm, or “Living Together”, in order to attack “strategic locations”, said Cherizier, whose agenda beyond removing Henry remains unclear.
In the sprawling slums under Cherizier’s control, where state services such as sewers, electricity and running water are non-existent, murals have been painted portraying him as the Argentinian revolutionary Che Guevara.
The youngest of eight children whose father died when he was five, Cherizier has said that he was inspired by François Duvalier, the brutal dictator who ruled Haiti from 1957 to 1971. But he also once told the Associated Press: “I would never massacre people in the same social class as me. I live in the ghetto. I know what ghetto life is.”
Gangs such as the G-9 now control about 80 per cent of Port-au-Prince, according to the UN. They extort money from businesses and kidnap rich and poor residents alike for ransom, all the while fighting each other over territory. The police, with only 9,000 members, are outmatched.
Each gang operates behind invisible frontiers in the slums, ruling them like fiefdoms, giving out food and granting non-governmental organisations – which are often the administrators of basic services in Haiti – permission to operate within.
Inside their neighbourhoods, gang leaders cruise around in vehicles stolen from their kidnapping victims, often painted in the livery of their favourite American sports teams or European fashion brands.
Bullet-holes pockmark buildings, while goats graze on uncollected rubbish and children bathe and play in raw sewage. In wartime, roadblocks of burning tyres are set up on the edges of the territory, with gunmen keeping watch from nearby rooftops.
Last year more than 8,400 people in Haiti fell victim to gang violence, including killings, injuries and kidnappings, according to the UN, which said the situation had reached a “critical point”. An estimated 200,000 people were displaced in 2023, and Haitians now make up a significant number of migrants intercepted at the US’s southern border, causing a headache for the administration of president Joe Biden.
“With this convergence of gangs under Barbecue, it’s now less about simply being able do as they please from a criminality perspective; he’s positioning it as a revolution,” said Julian Moro, regional security director at International SOS, a security and health services provider that often operates in war zones. “If that’s the case, we can expect more attempts to take and hold strategic assets such as the airport and maritime ports.”
Despite his efforts to cast himself as a populist politician, Cherizier remains a feared warlord alleged by the UN to have taken part in several massacres, including some while he was still a police officer. One of those saw more than 71 people killed, 400 homes set ablaze, and at least seven women raped by gangs in the La Saline slum of Port-au-Prince in 2018.
“He’s a volcano, always ready to erupt,” said Louis-Henri Mars, who has worked on peace-building initiatives in Haiti for decades and has met with Cherizier several times over the years. “He has some charisma, he’s a thinker, but he’s a violent individual also.”
Mars added that the attacks carried out in recent weeks by Cherizier’s gangs and others – including against police stations that could be used by the proposed multinational mission – amounted to a “pre-emptive strike” in advance of any international intervention promoted by Henry.
“They’re also putting themselves in a position of strength in any negotiations to remove Henry,” Mars said.
Cherizier’s notoriety was cemented in September 2022, when his gunmen blockaded Haiti’s largest fuel terminal, seizing 25,000 tonnes of diesel and triggering an energy crisis in a country where many homes rely on generators for electricity.
The following month, the UN sanctioned him for engaging “in acts that threaten the peace, security and stability of Haiti” and for committing “serious human rights abuses”, adding to existing US sanctions on him. Since then, Cherizier has maintained a relatively low profile, until again taking the limelight with a number of attacks in recent weeks.
But some observers question if his perceived power is due more to a knack for public relations than real influence. “Sometimes his communications are more effective than any power he wields,” said Flavia Maurello, Haiti country director for AVSI, an Italian charity which works in many gang-controlled neighbourhoods.
Maurello added that the humanitarian situation was likely to worsen as a result of Cherizier’s actions and the neighbouring Dominican Republic’s subsequent border restrictions. “Haiti depends on imports and if goods are not available at markets then the whole country will be affected,” she said. About half of Haiti’s population of 11.4 million are short of food, the UN says.
Since fighting escalated last week, 15,000 people have been displaced, the UN says, while Henry has been absent from the country. He was last seen in public on Friday in Nairobi, though Puerto Rico’s government confirmed on Tuesday that he was in the US territory. Washington, which has called for an “expedited transition” in Haiti, said it would not help Henry get home.
A former neurosurgeon, Henry took over as prime minister with the backing of the US after Moïse’s assassination, though many Haitians question his legitimacy and have protested against him. He was scheduled to step down by February 7th and hold elections, but at a summit of Caribbean leaders in Guyana last week he said they would be held by September 2025, despite calls for an earlier vote. In the current anarchy, it is unclear what government would replace Henry’s.
In his video published last week, Cherizier suggested that the violence could continue for a long time.
“The battle will last as long as it needs to. We will keep fighting Ariel Henry,” he said. “To avoid collateral damage, keep the kids at home.”
– Copyright The Financial Times Limited 2024
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