Image source, AFP via Getty Images
"We already put an end to the gangs in El Salvador, and we can end them too."
That was the warning that President Nayib Bukele issued to the leaders of Haiti's criminal groups after four Salvadoran aviation technicians who were part of a multinational force were kidnapped on October 18.
Since then, it has sent 2,000 soldiers to the Caribbean country to reinforce the search and rescue operations that already patrol the surroundings of the capital, Port-au-Prince.
"This is not an operation against the Haitian people, nor an invasion of the country of Haiti. We are not a great power. We have no interest in dominating the Haitian people, nor in appropriating Haiti's wealth," Bukele wrote on the social network.
Bukele declared a war against gangs in El Salvador that has resulted in a drastic reduction in violence in his country thanks to a harsh policy of iron fists and imprisonment that has drawn criticism for alleged human rights violations.
Now, part of that strategy is moving to Haiti, possibly the most dangerous country in Latin America and where the State seems incapable of controlling powerful criminal groups.
"We went through the same suffering that Haiti is going through today," Bukele said last week.
"We know what that means: living in fear, not trusting politicians, not believing in anyone who promises to help you. Because no one came to help us, and those who came did not have good intentions," he said.
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For this reason, he asked Haitians to "trust" him. "We came to Haiti to fight evil people," he added.
At BBC Mundo we spoke with Romain Le Cour Grandmaison, director of the Haiti Observatory of the Global Initiative against Transnational Organized Crime (GI-TOC), about what is known about the gangs that control the area in which the four Salvadorans lost their sight and how they compare with the Mara Salvatrucha (MS-13) and Barrio 18, under whose yoke El Salvador lived for decades.
We also asked him about the doubts surrounding the military deployment, what his biggest challenge is now, what Bukele risks with it and what he could gain.
Image sourceCourtesy of Romain Le Cour Grandmaison
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President Bukele warned the leaders of criminal organizations in Haiti that, just as he ended the gangs in his country, he can do the same with them. Is the model replicable?
It is a phrase with great political impact, but two things should be distinguished.
What is sold as the "Bukele model" is what was done in El Salvador: a process of mass incarceration in a prison system created for this purpose. What he is doing in Haiti so far is something else. It is a deployment and a military operation in another country.
Maybe at some point it will be the "new Bukele model" or the "second Bukele model." Perhaps the Haitian government, within a week, a month or a year, will ask Bukele to implement his original model, which he did in El Salvador.
But today it is not, and it is advisable not to confuse both debates.
What I think is important to highlight is that he is doing something new for him, for El Salvador and, to a large extent, for Latin America.
It is very rare, in decades, for a Latin American country to deploy forces for combat operations in another country in the hemisphere, outside of a United Nations peace mission. What is happening is really unusual.
How are gangs from one country and another different and, above all, how are they similar?
They share territorial control, extortion and violence against the population, but the differences are profound. The most powerful Haitian criminal groups, about 20, resemble armed militias.
They are numerous groups, with semi-automatic weapons, and they control immense territories: hundreds of square kilometers, close to 90% of the capital according to the UN, and part of the provinces. In some of these areas, public forces have not entered for five years.
They govern these territories, collect taxes, control roads and the country's main port infrastructure, and are inserted in political and economic networks that sustain them.
Its origin is also different. MS-13 and Barrio 18 were born in Los Angeles and arrived in El Salvador with the deportations of the 90s, after the civil war.
In Haiti, many of these groups were born or grew at the hands of political and economic actors who used them for their own interests.
So, if the Salvadoran deployment manages to recover certain territories and detain or neutralize certain leaders, two scenarios may open up.
The first option is for what we see in Latin America in general to happen: when one criminal group is decapitated, two emerge. There was one problem, now there are two.
The second is that the deployment achieves real security improvements. Even so, the political-economic criminality that sustains these groups would remain intact.
And therein lies the problem with the big heavy-handed speeches about the war on crime, in Haiti and elsewhere: it is presented as a war, about killing people. But if that worked, after 60 years of war on drugs, Latin America would not be the way it is.
How many people are estimated to make up these groups? What training and weapons do they have? And how does its combat capability compare to that of a formal army?
According to estimates, they have a total of between 15,000 and 20,000 members, although the number varies depending on the groups and alliances of the moment.
In five years, they moved from small arms and hunting rifles to 5.56mm and, increasingly, 7.62mm semi-automatic rifles in large numbers.
A significant portion comes from purchases in the United States, and then trafficked to Haiti. Another significant part comes from the diversion of official stocks of the Haitian police, the Haitian army and the Dominican security forces, with the complicity of corruption networks on both sides of the border.
Faced with a formal army, in theory superior in everything, the advantage of criminal groups is perfect knowledge of the terrain, street by street and neighborhood by neighborhood.
They have built trenches, walls, barricades and traps. They are mobile, they know how to move, hide and retreat to allied territories, only to return once the pressure decreases.
Tactically it resembles urban guerrilla warfare, a type of combat extremely difficult for even the most sophisticated armies, in densely populated neighborhoods where civilians remain trapped.
The security forces, for their part, have little intelligence, and what they do have is usually of poor quality.
However, the real capacity of these groups remains poorly proven. They have almost never faced intense, coordinated and sustained operations for weeks.
The police tried briefly in late 2025, and the Gang Suppression Force [GSF, the multilateral force to which the missing Salvadoran military members belong] is just getting started. No one knows for sure how they would react to prolonged pressure.
How do you explain that they have come to control a good part of the capital and its surroundings?
Due to three combined factors.
The collapse of the State, with an overwhelmed police, a paralyzed Justice, prisons emptied in 2024 and an absence of public authority in large areas.
The support of political, economic and, in some cases, security actors, who have turned to these groups according to their interests, as documented in the latest report of the UN Group of Experts.
And a constant flow of weapons and ammunition.
Added to this is an international response that was late and, for years, insufficient.
What specifically is known about the groups that control the area where the Salvadoran military disappeared?
The ambush occurred in Santo, in Croix-des-Bouquets, a territory controlled by Chen Mechan, with the participation of 400 Mawozo. Both are among the most powerful groups in the country.
Above all 400 Mawozo, due to a logic of territorial expansion that it developed very strongly in recent years.
Led by Wilson Joseph, alias Lanmò San Jou, it already controlled a very large territory on the outskirts of Port-au-Prince, in an area between urban and rural, but it expanded to control access and the highway axis towards the Dominican Republic.
With this access he managed to collect systematic extortion from everything that enters and leaves through that axis, which gives him considerable financial resources.
But, above all, he became an intermediary in arms trafficking from the Dominican Republic, with accomplices on both sides of the border, for himself and to sell them to other gangs.
How many forces are fighting these groups today?
It is a kind of mosaic of all kinds of public and private forces.
Five structures operate in the country: the Haitian National Police, the Haitian Armed Forces, still incipient; the Gang Suppression Force (GSF), the Task Force, which includes contractors from the private military company Vectus Global, and now the Salvadoran contingent.
To them are added parapublic groups and self-defense groups in different neighborhoods and rural areas.
It is difficult to give a precise figure for the total.
What is clear is that strategic coordination is very limited, particularly between the public forces themselves.
Each actor operates with its own mandate, chain of command and rules of engagement, without common planning. It is an orchestra without a conductor.
What role is Vectus Global, the company of Erik Prince, the founder of Blackwater, playing in Haiti?
It has been operating in Haiti since March 2025, contracted by the Haitian government.
Prince told the press that he has a 10-year contract, which would include a future role in customs collection.
Its most visible activity is drone attacks: Human Rights Watch documented more than 1,200 deaths in these operations between March 2025 and January 2026, including children.
Regarding financing, there is no public information: neither the amount, nor the conditions, nor the origin of the funds have been transparent.
Regarding its effectiveness, the balance is poor. In about 18 months, and despite having drones, helicopters and special operators, no top criminal leader has been neutralized or captured, while the groups have continued to expand.
It illustrates well the limits of firepower without a strategy behind it.
What do the soldiers sent by Bukele contribute to this panorama?
Before the ambush, El Salvador provided the GSF with some 125 aviation personnel, dedicated to medical evacuations.
Today it has more than 2,000 soldiers on the ground, including special forces, marines, infantry and support personnel, and about 2,500 are expected. It is the size of the entire GSF before reinforcement.
To whom will they answer? Under what command do they operate?
It is one of the great unknowns.
A bilateral agreement, which would amount to a status of forces agreement (SOFA), would have been approved on October 28, but its terms have not been made public.
The Haitian government speaks of cooperation "within the framework of the GSF", without further detail, while the Salvadoran communication does not mention the GSF.
The United Nations has since clarified that the vast majority of the Salvadoran military is not deployed under the GSF and therefore falls outside its mandate.
The question is no longer just under whose command they act, but who responds if something goes wrong.
Nor are their rules of engagement, their objectives or the duration of the deployment publicly known.
If these Salvadoran elements end up integrated into a joint and coordinated public security strategy, perhaps they can make a certain difference, because more troops are needed. If they go their own way, what they are unfortunately doing is adding cacophony and chaos to an already dysfunctional strategy.
Accumulating troops is not a strategy: no one has yet said what these forces must achieve together, or how the recovered territories will be held.
And what is your biggest challenge?
Their main challenge is the lack of knowledge of the terrain.
They don't speak Creole. They do not know local actors, inter-group alliances or rivalries, and will find it very difficult to distinguish members of criminal groups from a civilian population trapped in combat zones.
They also do not have their own intelligence networks, and depend on information of unequal quality. In an urban combat, this disadvantage can be decisive.
Furthermore, these criminal groups control or are active in such an extensive territory that the forces that confront them cannot mobilize everywhere at the same time.
Because these gangs, which were once at odds, I understand that they function as a kind of conglomerate. Is that so?
Yes. The Viv Ansanm coalition, which means 'Living together' in Haitian Creole, was officially announced in February 2024.
Each group is part of the coalition, but retains its territory and the right to govern it as it wants, its sovereignty, and has no obligation to defend its ally.
And the resources belong to each one. If one group makes 100 from extortion and another makes 10, they do not have to share the profits.
What there was within the coalition was a non-aggression pact that allows them to move through another gang's territory, share information, and coordinate to launch joint offensives.
Although in the last six or seven months the coalition became very fragmented, there was fighting between gangs, to the point that several leaders began to say that they were no longer part of it.
The big question now is whether these offensives are going to once again create a kind of common enemy that will lead the gangs to reactivate the coalition and fight together, or if they are going to say: "I'm not going to die for you. If the Salvadorans want 400 Mawozo and Chen Mechan, it's not my problem."
And there is a third possibility: that other groups open distraction fronts in other areas of the capital to relieve their allies. Nobody knows today if the forces can fight on several fronts at the same time.
In recent days, Lanmò San Jou wrote to the UN Secretary General to ask for dialogue and mediation, and distanced himself from the attack by pointing out Chen Mechan.
It is a sign that the pressure is being felt, but also a strategic move: reduce your exposure and seek recognition. And it confirms that, under pressure, each group begins to play on its own.
Dialogue should not be taboo: in Haiti, contacts with gang leaders exist every day, always denied, but they serve above all to resolve logistical issues, not to resolve the crisis or do justice.
Dialogue does not mean impunity or amnesty. It requires justice, precisely, and a real framework, led by the Haitian authorities.
In a message addressed to the Haitian population, Bukele asked them to trust him, and assured them: "We are not going to do business. Nobody is paying us." What reading do you make of that?
The interesting thing is that, to the extent that he communicates a lot and the Haitian government very little, Bukele appears today as the most visible voice of the security strategy in Haiti.
He explains what is going to happen, almost answering concerns in advance: "This is not an invasion, I did not come to do business, I did not come to kill you, honest citizen. I came to do the job that no one is doing for you."
There is something very strong in his way of addressing the people directly to obtain their support.
And how has it been received in Haiti?
It is said that in Haiti the people would be willing to accept any solution that allows them to get rid of the gangs, due to the strong frustration with the government and the security forces, and due to the inaction and feeling of abandonment.
That is to say: "Whatever the level of violence, do something." A part of the population, and even some Haitian analysts and organizations, share that message.
But I think it's actually more complex, and there's a lot of skepticism.
Haitians receive promises of this type regularly and do not believe them. Furthermore, they know perfectly well what these operations mean, how bloody they can be and the price that civilians will pay.
Tactically, the deployment can work: the gang leaders in the area are worried, they have never faced such firepower, and the troops can recover territories and give oxygen to the population, and even to the police and the GSF.
No one can oppose a return to security. The question is at what cost, and for how long, without justice, without services and without the Haitian State really assuming its responsibility.
That said, if Salvadorans manage to arrest or neutralize one, two or three top gang leaders, it could give them enormous capital and political recognition.
In that sense, what is known about the operation that has been carried out since October 18 and what results is it having?
In terms of results we know little. The four Salvadorans are still officially missing: on October 24, human remains were found that have not yet been identified, and Bukele claims that they are not those of his men.
What has been done so far is quite similar to what has been done in Haiti in the last three years, with almost weekly announcements of offensives and turning points.
What is being documented is the impact on the civilian population. The IOM (International Organization for Migration) counted at least 2,000 displaced people, and MSF (Doctors Without Borders) treated dozens of people injured by gunshots or drone explosions and had to suspend its mobile clinics.
In a few days, with drones, attack helicopters and heavy weapons, the reality on the ground changed drastically. Escalation is critical.
And there is a risk for later: when neighborhoods are suddenly and partially reopened, the risks of lynchings, revenge, and self-defense brigades taking control increase, with residents identified as gang accomplices.
In addition, humanitarian organizations encounter obstacles in providing aid and support to the population in the area.
Thinking about humanitarian response and demobilization separately is a mistake.
It is in the same neighborhoods where an exit must be opened for those who want to leave the groups, starting with the recruited children.
La Comisión Nacional de Desarme, Desmantelamiento y Reinserción (CNDDR) existe, pero mientras miles de soldados presionan los bastiones de estos grupos, no hay ningún mecanismo instalado.
Los que más tienen las de perder son seguramente los civiles, pero ¿a qué se arriesga Bukele?
El riesgo es real, y no viene únicamente de Haití.
Hay numerosos ejemplos, en los últimos 70 años, de ejércitos poderosos y entrenados que operan en contexto urbano o rural contra grupos pequeños y ágiles que conocen perfectamente la zona, y que caen en una trampa de la que nunca logran salir.
Corre el riesgo de que esto se vuelva algo tremendamente sangriento y muy costoso para las tropas salvadoreñas, y que, sin lograr resultados en el terreno, termine convirtiéndose en un operativo fracasado.
Está además la cuestión del costo. Bukele afirma que El Salvador asume el 90%, pero ¿por cuánto tiempo? Un despliegue de un mes y uno de un año no son lo mismo.
Por último, imagino que puede haber un riesgo político interno [en El Salvador], que la población le reclame: "¿Por qué mandaste a nuestros hijos a morir en Haití?".
Él mismo respondió con un tuit a los críticos que dicen que esto podría ser su Waterloo [en referencia a la histórica batalla de 1815 en la que Napoleón fue derrotado]. Pero ¿por qué crees que decidió asumir este riesgo?
La decisión puede responder a varias cosas a la vez: la necesidad de reaccionar, la voluntad de mostrarle al ciudadano salvadoreño que, pase lo que pase, el Estado va a cuidar a sus soldados y a traer de vuelta a los desaparecidos, y también el deseo de pasar a otro nivel de cooperación con Estados Unidos, mostrando que El Salvador es capaz de asumir ese tipo de liderazgo en la región.
El Salvador ha tenido una participación activa en las operaciones de seguridad en Haití a través del marco de Naciones Unidas. Siempre estuvo bastante comprometido con los despliegues en Haití.
Incluso en la GSF fue de los primeros países en anunciar que iba a aumentar su contingente, probablemente gracias a la buena relación que tiene con el gobierno de Estados Unidos.
Ahí puede haber una apuesta política de Bukele: demostrar que no es únicamente un actor nacional, sino un actor mucho más poderoso a nivel hemisférico, donde su modelo goza de gran popularidad.
Un medio estadounidense, Axios, reportó que, antes de enviar tropas de refuerzo a Haití, Bukele habría llamado a Donald Trump. El presidente estadounidense lo confirmó, agregando que le dijo: "Tienes un gran problema con Haití. Haz lo que tengas que hacer". Y cuando un periodista le preguntó si EE.UU. estaba considerando enviar ayuda, contestó: "(Bukele) No necesita ayuda". ¿Qué rol ves tú que está teniendo en todo esto Estados Unidos?
Hay señales oficiales del rol de Estados Unidos, como el apoyo logístico aéreo para traer las tropas a Haití.
Lo que veo es cierta prudencia, cierto silencio de la administración a la hora de comentar oficialmente el marco de esta intervención, sabiendo que Estados Unidos fue y sigue siendo el principal impulsor de la GSF.
Es el principal impulsor de la GSF, pero a su vez no hay efectivos estadounidenses en ese cuerpo multilateral.
No, para nada. Hasta cierto punto, este despliegue encaja con una lógica en la que Estados Unidos actúa a través de aliados regionales.
Habrá que ver si se integra o no en una lógica más coordinada.
Ya mencionabas que esto es inusitado. ¿Se plantearía como un posible modelo de seguridad para el hemisferio?
Si logra resultados que incluso a juicio del gobierno haitiano sean positivos, es muy probable que se convierta en un modelo.
Pero la experiencia pasada en Haití, de la MINUSTAH [la misión de estabilización de Naciones Unidas desplegada en 2004] por ejemplo, es clara: las victorias territoriales fueron reales, pero sin justicia ni acción contra las redes que sostienen a estos grupos, la crisis volvió más fuerte.
Despejar territorios sin justicia no dura.
Fuente de la imagen, Anadolu vía Getty Images
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