The Haitian politician maintains a troubled relationship with society. A relationship marked by broken promises, distance, veiled or overt contempt, and a profound lack of responsibility. Instead of being a guide, he too often becomes a calculating individual, a purveyor of illusions, an actor who feels accountable neither to the people nor to history.

But there is another, even more corrosive phenomenon:

The transformation of activism into a toxic political career

Many Haitian politicians began as social activists, defenders of the people, and spokespeople for the oppressed. They cried out for "justice," "change," and "dignity." But once integrated into the system, this activism morphed into personal ambition, privilege, and access to the state as if the state were a reward.

Instead of serving, they serve themselves.

Instead of defending the Nation, they fight for their place in the chaos.

The activist then becomes a professional politician, disconnected from popular suffering, but skilled in the art of manipulating speeches to mask his inaction.

And yet, despite repeated mistakes, despite visible failures, despite successive betrayals, they cling on.

For what ?

Because in Haiti, politics is no longer a vocation; it has become an economic refuge, a means of social advancement, a space of impunity.

Because the state is treated like a private company where every position becomes a profit, every mandate a salary, every function an area for exploitation.

Because failure has no consequences.

Because the system forgives everything — except the will to change it.

This stubbornness to remain, despite failure, is not a sign of conviction; it is proof of a dependence on a system that fuels ambitions but starves the country.

They cling on because politics guarantees them what society does not: status, advantages, a gateway to impunity and personal survival.

Meanwhile, the population watches, hopes, then resigns itself.

And in this resignation, something precious crumbles: trust.

When leaders lie, manipulate, promise and then disappear, it is not only the state that collapses: it is collective dignity.

It is the people's ability to believe in a possible future.

However, all is not lost.

The country still has a vibrant youth, a determined diaspora, and a resilient civil society.

The transformation must begin with a moral revolution, a reconstruction of the relationship to power, and a redefinition of leadership.

Because Haiti does not lack talented people; it lacks men and women capable of loving the country more than themselves.

Real change will not come from those who cling to the system, but from those who have the courage to break with it.

Junior Remy