The sudden and unexpected arrival of the French warship Circé in the bay of Port-au-Prince — Haiti’s capital — in the first week of July 1825 would have caused consternation among the city’s inhabitants. Since Haiti had declared independence from France in 1804 after a bitter 15-year war of liberation, the fledgling republic had feared that the former colonial power might one day return to seek vengeance.
The French had finally left their colony of Saint-Domingue in ruins after a slave rebellion evolved into a full-scale war, but Haitians always knew that their fight with France was not over. As news spread that a flotilla of 14 heavily armed ships were anchored offshore, it became apparent that Haiti was indeed under attack. What was not yet understood was that this onslaught would be economic rather than military — and would last for more than a century.
The commander of the fleet, the Baron de Mackau, demanded a meeting with Haiti’s president, Jean-Pierre Boyer. He announced that France’s recently restored Bourbon king, Charles X, had issued an ordinance the previous April finally recognising the independence of Haiti.
In return, the Haitian state was to agree to an indemnity of 150 million gold francs — payable to the French colonists who had lost their “properties” (principally slaves as well as estates) during the extended revolution and independence struggle.
The terms of the ordinance were brutal. The Haitian state was to pay this vast sum of reparations in five annual instalments of 30 million francs, the first in December 1825. On 11 July, the Haitian senate agreed to these and other preferential trade terms, and the baron sailed back to France.
Two centuries later, it might seem strange that Haiti’s leaders were prepared to accept this humiliating and ruinous deal. But in reality, they had little choice, as the country was already on the brink of bankruptcy.
Since its declaration of independence on 1 January 1804, Haiti had been ostracised and embargoed by almost all its neighbours in the Americas, who were terrified that the successful slave revolution might be duplicated in other slave-owning territories in and around the Caribbean.
Britain and the United States refused to recognise the new country, and the new independent countries of South America were wary of forging links. Trade was limited, and the young nation was forced into an undeveloped form of peasant economy, where smallholdings replaced the hugely prosperous plantations of the French colony of Saint-Domingue.
Boyer knew that Haiti needed official recognition of its independent status to extend political and trade agreements — and to leave behind its pariah status. The cruel reality, however, was that the nation — whose army of slaves had beaten the formidable war machine of Napoleon Bonaparte — would have to pay compensation to the same French planters who had enslaved and exploited its people.
While war reparations are normally paid to the victor by the vanquished, here it was the reverse. The impoverished peasants of Haiti were in debt to the wealthy descendants of Saint-Domingue’s plantocracy.
The debt was immediately duplicated, since Boyer’s government could not raise the money to pay the first instalment. France cynically agreed to lend the funds to the Haitian government. And so began the “double debt”, whereby Haiti was in debt to French banks in order to pay its debt to the dispossessed slave owners.
The first payment was calculated to be six times greater than the annual revenues of the Haitian state. It was settled by borrowing from a French bank, which in turn raised the capital from French investors — all of whom were paid interest by the Haitian borrowers. It is said that what was not raised in France came by ship from the Haitian treasury in reinforced sacks of gold coins.
The situation was unsustainable, and for decades successive Haitian governments had to enter into new debts to pay off the old ones. Late payments incurred penalties and threats, and in 1843 Boyer was forced from office after a debt crisis led to crippling new taxes on the poor.
So began the “double debt”, whereby Haiti was in debt to French banks in order to pay its debt to the dispossessed slave owners
Five years earlier, France had reduced the overall indemnity to 90 million francs, but the spiral of indebtedness was already unstoppable, with new loans contracted in Europe and the US. By the end of the 19th century, an estimated 80% of Haiti’s government budget went on debt repayments.
The vicious cycle meant that successive governments lacked money for schools, hospitals and roads. While other Caribbean territories — including colonies — saw advances in their social structures, Haiti stagnated in poverty. Only a small elite with connections to political and military power enjoyed prosperity, and the military was always well funded for fear of unrest and rebellion.
Unrest was frequent, though, and governments were regularly overthrown amidst accusations of corruption. So serious was the turmoil in July 1915 that the US government, anxious over its investments, dispatched marines to Port-au-Prince — starting a 19-year occupation.
The occupation confirmed the US as Haiti’s chief creditor, and repayments — stemming from loans contracted to pay off earlier debt — were directed to American companies such as National City Bank (nowadays Citigroup).
Some 40% of government revenues were paid to US banks in interest from 1915 to 1934. The final tranche was paid to National City Bank in 1947 — 122 years after the original French ordinance.
An in-depth report by The New York Times in 2022 concluded that in today’s value, Haiti paid France about US$560 million as a ransom to gain recognition of its independence. Furthermore, had that money been invested in the Haitian economy over the previous two centuries, it estimated, it would have added at least US$21 billion to national wealth.
The newspaper concluded that without the “double debt”, Haiti’s per capita income in 2018 would be six times larger — and on par with its successful neighbour the Dominican Republic. The Haitian National Committee on Restitution & Reparations (HNCRR) puts the converted value of debt repayments at US$38–$135 billion, depending on how the sum is calculated.
The historic injustice is now well documented, but there seems little prospect of compensation. Was it pure coincidence that the radical president, Jean-Bertrand Aristide — who vociferously called for restitution from France — was removed from power in 2004, allegedly with the approval of Washington and Paris?
In any case, the campaign for reparations — as other Caribbean nations know all too well — is controversial and produces few quick results.
But in April 2025, French president Emmanuel Macron conceded that Haiti “was confronted with the unjust force of history from its very inception”. Referring to the “heavy financial indemnity” of 1825, he announced the creation of a French-Haitian commission to “examine our shared past” and assess current relations.
It is, says Fritz Deshommes of HNCRR, “a very small step in the right direction”. Cynics, meanwhile, will note that Macron pointedly referred to “the forces of the counterrevolution since 1814, the restoration of the Bourbons and the monarchy” in his account of the events of 1825. In other words: historic responsibility does not lie with Republican France and, by extension, with his government.