In Haiti, journalism is a high-risk profession. In recent years, members of the press have faced death threats, physical attacks and abductions, mainly by gangs that control much of the Caribbean country. Furthermore, murders of journalists have increased and most cases remain unsolved.
Just on Dec. 24, two journalists lost their lives in a gang attack on a hospital in Port-au-Prince.
Many Haitian journalists have chosen exile in the face of the social, political, economic and security crisis that affects their country.
Three journalists who left Haiti to save their lives explained to LatAm Journalism Review (LJR) what it means to be a Haitian journalist in exile.
When Roberson Alphonse, head of national news at iconic Haitian newspaper Le Nouvelliste and information director at radio station Magik9, saw that gangs had burned down the Bernard Mevs hospital in Port-au-Prince in December 2024, he relived the anguish felt two years earlier, when he was admitted to that same hospital.
Roberson Alphonse survived an assassination attempt, after which he left Haiti for the U.S. (Photo: Courtesy of Roberson Alphonse)
Alphonse had been the victim of an attempted murder in which he was shot in his car while on his way to work in November 2022. He was transferred to Bernard Mevs, considered at the time the most important trauma and intensive care hospital in the country, and underwent two surgeries.
Once out of danger, Alphonse and his wife, journalist Nathalie Cardichon, went directly from the hospital to the Toussaint Louverture airport in Port-au-Prince and took a plane to the United States, where they remain in exile to this day.
“It’s kind of shocking to see images of that hospital, which I consider my last refuge in Haiti. It’s the last place I slept before I left the country of my ancestors,” Roberson told LJR.
Alphonse and Cardichon spent eight months in Miami, while the journalist finished his recovery. In August 2023, the couple moved to Michigan after Alphonse received the Knight-Wallace Fellowship for Journalists. In that city, he underwent another surgery to try to remove bullet fragments that were embedded in his arm.
Although he never received explicit threats, prior to his attack Alphonse knew that his work was causing discomfort in different sectors. He had investigated the alleged misuse of public funds related to Petrocaribe, the agreement for the supply of oil at reduced prices between Venezuela and Caribbean countries.
“I knew that one day they would come after me. And the reason is very simple: I investigated what was critics’ claims of misuse,” Alphonse said. “As a result of my investigation and other public outcry, we have had huge demonstrations to challenge Petrocaribe, asking where that money went to.”
For the last piece he wrote before being attacked, on Oct. 24, 2022, he interviewed relatives of people killed by gangs. Alphonse said he clearly remembers the title of what would have been his last article if he had died in the attack: “Comme si le sang devait s’abreuver de silence” (As if blood should drink in silence).
“I didn't know that, after those interviews I was going to be the target, and that I was so close to living the same experience of those people I wrote about,” he said. “The gangs hate me, corrupt officials hate me. By doing my job, I was the target.”
Alphonse said direct threats from gang leaders have spread fear among his Haitian colleagues, leading some to even stop covering certain topics.
In September 2024, Jimmy Cherizier, known as “Barbecue,” a former police officer turned one of the most influential gang leaders in Haiti, and who heads the gang alliance “G9 et Famille,” was explicit in calling for the life of journalist Widlore Mérancourt, editor of the AyiboPost media. Cherizier launched similar threats against journalists Guerrier Dieuseul, Johnny Ferdinand, Loucko Désir and Essaue César through TikTok.
“‘Barbecue’ was vocal and clear during his threat saying that he asked all these gang affiliates to bring to him those journalists to make sure he can prosecute them, trial them,” Alphonse said. “So that has created concern, fear and some kind of self-censorship from some of my colleagues.”
Already in exile, Alphonse decided that he was not going to let his attackers achieve their goal of silencing him; he returned to his profession. He is currently on air from Monday to Friday on Magik9 and works remotely with Le Nouvelliste’s newsroom.
That has allowed him not only to stay up to date with the news in Haiti, but also to have an income while he waits for his appointment at the United States Citizenship and Immigration Services regarding his asylum application.
“I still have a good relationship with the sources in Haiti. For some tasks, I count on my colleagues to do the groundwork when it's needed. I try to manage to be productive and effective as a journalist while I'm still in exile,” Alphonse said.
Le Novelliste faces its own challenges. In April 2024, the offices of several media outlets, including the newspaper, were taken over by criminals. The newspaper's director decided to move several of the employees out of the Haitian capital, Alphonse said, so much of the newsroom now works remotely.
Insecurity and the economic crisis forced Le Nouvelliste to cease its print edition. Although it has more than 110,000 subscribers in its digital version and more than a million followers on social networks, the absence of the paper product impacted the media outlet's finances, Alphonse said.
“It’s hard. I can tell you it’s not easy. We don’t have enough subscribers to pay for expenses, salaries and survive. It’s a very critical time financially for Le Nouvelliste,” Alphonse said. “As a private media, we live on advertisements and advertisements are being drastically reduced.”
Roberson recently moved to Chicago, where he will live for at least a year as a visiting lecturer at Northwestern University's Medill School of Journalism. He still has one more surgery pending to remove four bullet fragments that remain in his arm.
Alphonse has also struggled to recover emotionally. Although he has undergone therapy, the journalist believes that events against the press such as those that have recently occurred in his country make him relive the trauma over and over again.
“If someone survives an assassination attempt or was wounded physically, you can see their physical wounds, but you cannot see the emotional wounds, and those are vicious, those are excruciating, those are painful to deal with,” he said. “For me, there is no cure for emotional distress. You can learn to live with it. You can mitigate it, but you will see it coming back.”
Alphonse admits that it took him several months just to be able to verbalize that he was a journalist in exile. That, he said, has been one of the most difficult processes.
“It's a personal determination for each person to say ‘I am in exile.’ It was hard for me,” he said. “When you can emotionally and psychologically accept that you are in exile, you come to accept that you have been uprooted, kicked out violently from your country, from the land of your ancestors. It's a trauma. Being in exile is one of the most violent experiences someone can live.”
Days after covering gang actions in Port-au-Prince in June 2021, photojournalist Dieu-Nalio Chery, then an Associated Press photographer, was alerted by a colleague that gang members were asking about him. It happened after one of his photographs showed gang members allegedly killing people.
“I know what these gangs can do and I know they have power, they can do anything. And I had two girls, one was 11 and the other was five, and I said ‘I can’t leave these kids without a father,’” Chery told LJR. “I said OK, this is the time for me to move from Haiti if I want to give my kids another chance.’"
Photojournalist Dieu Nalio Chery left Haiti after learning that gang members were looking for him. (Photo: Daryl Marshke)
After receiving the news, Chery and his family left their home. With support from the organizations Fondation Connaissance et Liberté (FOKAL), which has a program to support journalists, and Open Society, Chery was able to obtain a scholarship to attend the Craig Newmark Graduate School of Journalism at the City University of New York (CUNY) and travel to the United States with a student visa.
Upon concluding his program at CUNY a year later, Chery requested political asylum. His family had grown with the arrival of his youngest son. In 2022, he moved to Detroit, Michigan, thanks to a two-year scholarship to work at City of Asylum, an organization that supports writers and artists exiled for suffering persecution due to their work.
Chery also did not allow exile to take away his ability to practice his profession. During his time in the United States he has continued to work as a freelancer for media such as The New York Times, Reuters, The Washington Post and The Haitian Times. His command of English and his experience for more than 10 years with the Associated Press have opened many doors for him, he admitted.
Chery knows that he has advantages that other Haitian journalists in exile do not have.
“A lot of journalists that came from Haiti in the States discontinued their profession because they don't have the same possibilities as me,” he said. “When I arrived, I contacted The New York Times, Reuters, and Associated Press again, so they gave me assignments as a freelance.”
Even in Haiti, Chery considered himself lucky. While the majority of journalists who work for national media face precarious pay and working conditions, professionals who work for foreign media or agencies receive payment that, in Chery's opinion, has no comparison with local salaries.
A 2022 UNESCO report indicated that many press workers in Haiti are poorly paid or even work voluntarily and are forced into side jobs.
“Working for international media and working for local media in Haiti is day and night,” Chery said. “I had an international salary [rate] with The New York Times when they gave assignments. Either you are in New York or if you are in Haiti, they will pay the same price. Same with an agency, they may base [their rates] on the economy of the country, but they still pay you way, way better than the local media.”
Along with his work as a freelancer, Chery has dedicated his time in the United States to a personal photojournalism project about the Haitian diaspora in that country. The first part, about the practice of the Vodou religion in New York, was published in The Washington Post. The second, published in The New York Times, addressed the gentrification suffered by the inhabitants of Little Haiti, in Miami.
A third part is in process, about the future facing the Haitian community in Springfield, Ohio, following the arrival of Donald Trump to the presidency, after the new president made stigmatizing comments against that community during a presidential debate.
When his fellowship in Detroit ended in 2024, Chery moved to Ann Arbor, Michigan, after being accepted as a Knight-Wallace Fellow at the University of Michigan, where he will spend an academic year while awaiting an appointment for his asylum application.
“Establishing in a new country is not really easy. And when you didn't have a plan to move out of your country to go to another country, it's a really big challenge,” Chery said. “I struggled a lot to establish myself here, because I have, let’s say, a big family. Sometimes it’s going very good, but sometimes not so good. So I am trying to make it right, I am trying to make it”.
One night in 2022, a group of people were shooting for more than four hours outside the house of journalist Jacky Marc in Croix-des-Bouquets, a commune about eight miles from Port-au-Prince.
“I cannot say we were the target of this, but that was in front of my house, during more than four hours. After that day, we didn’t feel safe staying there,” Marc told LJR.
Journalist Jacky Marc was able to move to Canada on a student visa. (Photo: Courtesy of Jacky Marc)
The journalist and his family moved to his mother's house in the nearby commune of Pétion-Ville. Less than a year later, Marc decided to leave his family and leave Haiti. He was accepted to complete a Master's degree at the University of Ottawa, in Canada, where he has lived since 2023.
Marc not only left his family in Haiti – they were finally able to join him in Canada at the end of 2024, – but also the possibility of practicing his profession. Before leaving his country, he worked as a radio journalist, in addition to being an international delegate of the Association of Haitian Journalists (AJH, for its acronym in French) and a journalism professor at different institutions.
Currently he only produces a podcast that he distributes for free.
“Everywhere in the country or the capital is controlled by armed guys from gangs. So nothing is easy for journalists living over there [in Haiti]. It was very hard to do our job safely,” he said. “Many of us have been attacked or intimidated. Then for those reasons, we have to leave the country.”
Marc said that, although it is known that gangs do not view the work of the press favorably, journalists do not take due precautions when carrying out their work.
“Journalists don’t pay attention or don’t really have accurate information of the situation, so they expose themselves” he said. “Some journalists are victims because they don't take into account the dangerousness of the situation. For example, they don't pay attention to the security when they go to a block that is controlled by gangs, they don't have life jackets, they don't get a good control of the situation.”
Organizations that defend journalism and press freedom, like the AJH, have very limited capabilities to help their members in the face of threats from gangs, Marc said. Most are limited to being aware of the needs of journalists who are victims of threats and aggressions, and to facilitate the support of international organizations.
However, he believes that there is not much that national or international organizations can do to help journalists, since the situation of insecurity and crisis affects the country as a whole.
“It’s the whole country that has problems. Journalists are involved in society. They live in the poor blocks, they take public transport. So whatever insecurity they face, all the country faces too,” he said. “Probably when we have a victim journalist, organizations can assist them by providing economic help. But in reality, we would want something stable for everybody, a solution to the main problem, that is insecurity.”
Marc said that the AJH does not keep a record of the journalists from Haiti who have gone into exile or how many of them are in the process of applying for political asylum. On many occasions, he said, they find out about their colleagues' departure from the country only months later.
“When they left, we don’t really know after some time. Some of them can be moved because they have U.S. visas. You can be in touch with them and they let you know that they applied for asylum,” Marc said. “What we do know is that a lot of them are living outside of the country, but not all of them are applying for asylum.”
Marc hopes to be able to apply for permanent residency when his student visa expires. If that does not work, he said, he does not rule out requesting political asylum.
He believes that, regardless of immigration status, exile in any of its forms is almost always the only option to escape the harsh reality of the country of origin.
“Some of us are outside asking for asylum. Others have chosen study as an option. But in reality, whatever it is, everybody is outside in exile,” he said.
