If you stood atop Pic la Selle, Haiti’s highest peak, you might think you were gazing upon the aftermath of war. Barren slopes, stripped of their forests, stretch for miles and the earth parched and exposed to the relentless sun. Rivers, once thriving with life, run brown with eroded soil. The land, dry and exposed, tells a story of destruction, but not of its own making. Haiti’s ecological devastation is not an accident of geography nor the fault of its people. It’s the consequence of centuries of extraction. First by colonial empires, then by economic policies that continued to gut the island long after its independence. And now, as climate change intensifies, Haiti faces yet another battle for survival.
The world calls it “resilience”. But resilience is not a badge of honor, it is a demand, an expectation placed upon Haiti and its people to endure suffering again and again. Haitian resilience is mythologized, repackaged as a feel-good narrative that allows global powers to turn away, absolving themselves of responsibility. But there is nothing heroic about being left with no other option. There is no dignity in forced endurance. What the world calls resilience is, in truth, survival in the face of relentless neglect.
Long before Colombus stumbled onto the island in 1492, the Taíno people had built a civilization that thrived in harmony with the land they called Kiskeya. They practiced agroforestry, cultivating cassava, maize, and sweet potatoes in ways that preserved soil health. They fished with care, allowing marine life to replenish. The forests were vast and unbroken, home to a staggering diversity of wildlife. It was an island in balance—where nature was a partner, not a resource to be exhausted.
French Exploitation (17th-19th Century)
Then came the French, and with them, the machinery of empire: an economic system built on human bondage, a legal structure that codified racial brutality, and an agricultural model that stripped the land bare for European profit and ambition. Saint-Domingue, as the French renamed it, was engineered to be a vast engine of wealth and the crown jewel of the French economy—producing half of Europe’s sugar and coffee—while its forests were cleared, its soil drained of nutrients, and an insatiable slave trade swallowed entire generations. More than 50% of Haiti’s forests were leveled for plantations by the late 18th century. The soil, stripped bare, eroded under torrential rains, washing away what had once been a lush ecosystem.
Post-Independence Economic Exploitation (19th-20th Century)
Haitians seized their independence in 1804 through a bloody and hard-fought revolution, but it was not the end of France’s direct economic exploitation of Haiti. France, humiliated at the loss of its most profitable colony, sought to deter future rebellions and maintain economic control over its former colony. It came in the form of a crushing indemnity: between 120-150 million francs, the equivalent of around $25 billion USD today. Haiti paid, draining its economy for more than a century. The land suffered, too, as forests were cut to fuel an economy that could no longer sustain itself. When the U.S. occupied Haiti (1915-1934), it doubled down on export-oriented agriculture, focusing on commodities like sugar and coffee for American markets, further eroding what little remained of the country’s natural defenses.
Deforestation and Soil Erosion
The result? Today, about 20% of Haiti’s original forest cover remains. Without trees to anchor the soil, landslides are common. The deforested hillsides absorb no water, leading to flash floods that sweep away entire villages. Charcoal remains the primary fuel source for millions, meaning what little remains of the forest is disappearing by the day.
Climate Change Impacts
Haiti has contributed almost nothing to global warming; accounting for less than 0.03% of global carbon emissions, yet it is among the top 10 most climate-vulnerable countries. The island is battered by hurricanes, its coasts eaten away by rising seas. Hurricane Matthew (2016), which devastated Haiti’s southern peninsula, particularly Les Cayes and Jérémie, alone caused $2.8 billion USD in damages, nearly one-third of Haiti’s GDP. Haitian waters, once teeming with fish such as snapper and grouper, are warming, and stocks have experienced a sharp decline in the last few decades.
Economic Consequences
Haiti now imports over 55% of its food. Farming, once the backbone of the economy, revolved around crops like rice, maize, and plantains, is in crisis. Every failed harvest tightens the grip of poverty, pushing more people into the desperate cycle of deforestation and charcoal production. The world sends aid, but much of it is mismanaged or lost to corruption by both the Haitian government and international aid organizations. After the 2010 earthquake, millions in international relief funds were misallocated, and essential supplies disappeared before reaching those in need. This aid doesn’t rebuild soil. It doesn’t regrow forests. It doesn’t stop the storms.
The Problem with ‘Resilience’ Narratives
For foreign powers like the United States, France, and international financial institutions, there is a certain comfort in calling Haiti “resilient.” It absolves responsibility. It suggests that Haiti will find a way to survive, as it always has. But survival is not justice. Justice means confronting the undeniable truth: Haiti’s suffering is not a natural disaster but the outcome of deliberate policies, exploitative debts, and centuries of calculated indifference from nations that have extracted its wealth and left it to fend for itself.
Reparative Climate Action
Haiti doesn’t need another round of disaster relief. It needs systemic change—long-term policies addressing the root causes of its particular vulnerabilities, from economic exploitation to environmental degradation. Chief among these policies are:
Haiti’s story is not a tragic inevitability, nor an accident of fate, it is a deliberate outcome of centuries of exploitation and disregard. It is a case study of how colonialism, greed, and systemic neglect can strip a land of its resources and leave its people in a cycle of perpetual crisis. Climate justice for Haiti does not look like charity—it looks like a demand for accountability, restitution, and systemic change. The world cannot continue to turn a blind eye to Haiti’s suffering, dressing it up as resilience while refusing to take responsibility. The time for real justice is upon us.
Bianca Pierre-Louis is a Haitian-American writer, environmentalist, and strategist committed to dismantling systemic barriers through social and climate justice. She is passionate about transformative change and connects people and organizations to create lasting impact and meaningful progress.
