Haitian migrants in the Dominican Republic, and especially in the border area, are facing issues never before seen. For example, the government has set a weekly deportation target of 10,000 people. Central to this effort to address pressing immigration issues is a new general directorate of migration established by President Luis Abinader. What it has done is ignite fear and the trauma experienced in these communities. In fact, between January and June of this year authorities deported more than 184,000 people. This shocking number is already 56,000 more than International Organization for Migration (IOM) projections.
Haiti, now affected by extreme socio-economic fragility, climate-change disasters and insecurity, is in a precarious position. Between the years of 2000-2020, Haiti felt severe effects from sudden onset extreme weather disasters. This perfect storm greatly exacerbated the crises its citizens were already struggling to overcome. As the nation’s tree cover has dropped to a mere 3%, this threat of climate disasters continues to widen. More than a quarter of displaced households in Haiti have been forced to relocate multiple times due to hurricanes, floods, and landslides.
In their quest to meet the deportation quotas, Dominican authorities are targeting bateyes—informal settlements primarily occupied by Haitian sugarcane workers. These communities are part of the most marginalized and impoverished communities in the Dominican Republic. People like Sainristil have felt firsthand the painful and punitive tactics used when ICE raids become reality, leading to detention and deportation.
The government forcibly detains them and packs them into deportation vans that resemble rolling cages. They get them on the market in Haiti as fast as they can. Nobody has any recourse [to the law],” Gabrielle Apollon testified over the swift, cruel nature of deportations, as an example of this bypassing of justice.
As a result, the threat of deportation weighs heavily over Haitian migrants, many of whom have built stable lives in the Dominican Republic. Miranda’s family went through an unimaginable tragedy. Though they did not have documentation, her sons and her Dominican-born nephew were at risk of deportation. To regain custody of her relatives, Miranda had to pay buscones, scammers who preyed on migrant families.
Dominican nationality laws have historically denied anyone of Haitian descent the right to Dominican citizenship. This exclusion places families on both sides of the border in a precarious position. Public sentiment regarding immigration is overwhelmingly negative. Approximately 59% of Dominicans believe that immigration harms their country, significantly higher than the regional average for negative views toward migrants.
Carlo, a Haitian migrant, remarked on the harsh realities faced by his community: “It’s like a business. If you have money, you don’t go to Haiti. It has become more aggressive and more abusive.” More and more families are in a state of desperation. They do not have the infrastructure to support them through the pitfalls and treacheries of migration and exile.
The unfortunate reality is that the Dominican government’s response has increased tension and fear among the Haitian migrant community. The authorities have ramped up efforts in bateyes to meet deportation quotas. In turn, millions are experiencing fear for their safety, work, and legal status. Fidel Herredia articulated this fear starkly: “They throw you in the truck and take you away like you’re an animal.”
Bridget Wooding from SOAS University of London reminded us that the present goal is on measurable deportations rather than the people they are deporting. “The issue is that people are not being counted, events are being counted,” she stated, underscoring the need for a more humane approach to immigration policy.