National reconciliation | No to violence
For over two centuries, each Haitian generation has believed that the violence of their time would be the last. It never has been. As the Movement of Prayer for Haiti (MPH) launches 100 days of mobilization for non-violence, forgiveness, and reconciliation, one question arises for everyone: Haitians, what will we do?
When a house is on fire, no one runs to get a torch. We look for water, we form a chain. Yet, for decades, our nation has been extinguishing the fire with gasoline: violence against violence, humiliation against humiliation.
The myth of violence that saves
In 1986, the dechoukaj was meant to uproot the macoute terror; it often replaced justice with vengeance, and impunity survived the regime. Then came “Father Lebrun,” the attachés, and then the chimè, and finally the armed gangs used as political instruments before becoming autonomous powers.
In 2023, exasperated by abandonment, part of the population responded with “Bwa Kale.” The anger was understandable. But the gangs did not disappear, and entire neighborhoods learned that one could kill in public without trial. Violence does not punish the guilty: it creates other victims, who will in turn become avengers.
Wounds never healed
Haiti was born from a miracle of unity. At Vertières, former free people and newly freed individuals silenced their quarrels to triumph together. Less than three years later, on October 17, 1806, the nation's founder fell at Pont-Rouge under the blows of his companions. This first fratricide opened a wound that has never healed: North against South, fractures of color and class, city against “rural outskirts.”
None of these wounds have been named or repaired. The report of the National Commission on Truth and Justice, If I Do Not Call, submitted in 1996, still sleeps in drawers. A people that does not heal its wounds eventually believes that suffering is its destiny. It is not a destiny; it is a legacy. And a legacy can be refused.
The price of resentment
According to the International Organization for Migration (IOM), by June 2026, nearly one and a half million of our compatriots have been driven from their homes by armed gangs: about one Haitian in ten. Violence has spread to Kenscoff, Artibonite, and Southeast. Schools are closing, harvests are rotting, jobs are going up in smoke, and many of our youth, often the best educated, are leaving or locking themselves in despair.
Reducing violence to just gangs would be simplistic. The weapons that kill in our neighborhoods have been bought, financed, and protected; international sanctions have targeted political and economic actors suspected of supporting them. And violence starts even closer to us, with a normalization of brutality: in the hateful voice messages shared on WhatsApp, in the slap given to a child, in the blows struck against a woman, in the discourse that turns the opponent into a traitor. The rifles are merely completing sentences started elsewhere.
We cannot sing “Ayiti Cheri” while we are destroying Haiti.
Forgiveness is not absolution
How can we talk about forgiveness to a mother whose son has been executed? First by acknowledging her pain and her right to justice. No one can impose on her the obligation to forgive, much less ask her to renounce a complaint or accept impunity. Forgiveness is a personal journey. Justice concerns the institutions. It must establish the facts, protect the victims, judge the responsible parties, and make reparations possible. It cannot wait for victims to forgive. However, this grieving mother may, if she so wishes, and at her own pace, choose to liberate herself from the chains of her wound through forgiveness, thus escaping from continuous suffering.
Reconciliation requires more than a handshake: it assumes truth, acknowledgment of wrongs, and concrete guarantees that harm will not be repeated. A society cannot be reconciled sustainably by leaving the most vulnerable without protection.
Non-violence is not passivity. It does not prevent the State from protecting the population with legitimate force, in accordance with the law. It rejects street justice and private vengeance. “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good” (Romans 12:21).
Other peoples have chosen to live
In 1994, Rwanda lost over 800,000 of its children in just a hundred days. Its community courts, the “gacaca,” nonetheless forced perpetrators and victims to face each other and tell the truth. South Africa created its “Truth and Reconciliation Commission”; Desmond Tutu derived the conviction that there is no future without forgiveness. Colombia signed peace in 2016. None of these peoples chose between justice and forgiveness: they chose both, starting with the truth. Could the people who defeated Napoleon's army be incapable of overcoming their own hatred?
100 days to change habits
Peace is learned, gesture by gesture. This is the meaning of the “100 Days” launched on Saturday, October 31, by the MPH, with Professor Amary Joseph Noël, general coordinator of the Confederation of Haitians for Reconciliation (CHAR). Every morning, a reflection in Creole, French, and English proposes a concrete gesture. Every evening at 9 PM, Haiti time, the “Minit lapè” gathers the country and its diaspora in a minute of prayer.
Prayer can give us the strength to start. Our actions must translate it into the lives of our compatriots.
What will we do?
In churches: may the unity preached on Sabbath or Sunday also inspire our relationships on Monday. To political and economic leaders: renounce any complicity with violent networks and recognize the image of God in our compatriots, especially the victims of your actions and omissions. To the media and influencers: verify before sharing; your words can fuel hatred or open dialogue. To parents and educators: let us show our children that we can oppose without degrading ourselves.
And to each of us: let us stop sharing messages that dehumanize. Let us listen to those who do not think like us. Let us acknowledge our wrongs. Let us reach out to a displaced person. Let us demand institutions that protect all citizens. “Many hands make the load lighter,” yet we must stop pushing each other down. May our hands serve to offer a comforting touch rather than to wield a weapon of destruction. Where the fire of resentment burns, let us bring the water of love.
Haitians, what will we do? The answer begins with me. It starts with you. It begins with us.
Jean Ricot Dormeus is a diplomat and founder of the Movement of Prayer for Haiti (MPH).
To participate: www.mphai.org ·
The launch of the 100 Days benefited from the collaboration of the Christian Partnership for Non-violence, Forgiveness, and Reconciliation.
Commitment “Mwen angaje m”: https://forms.gle/Jz5VcBWGKKhakpBu5 · #100DaysForPeace
