By Daniella Saint-Louis
Copyright haitiantimes
LÉOGÂNE, Haiti — The rusting gates and weed-filled courtyards of the Jean Léopold Dominique Sugar Factory stand as a monument to Haiti’s industrial decline.
Known locally as the Darbonne Sugar Factory, the once-bustling sugar mill complex— situated about 21 miles southwest of Port-au-Prince— has been shuttered since 2015, devastating sugarcane farmers, distillers and vendors across Léogâne and beyond.
“The closure of the factory killed Léogâne’s economy and farmers’ livelihoods,” said André Romulus, a contractor who spent decades at the plant. “When it operated, the whole region had work. Now everything is silent.”
Once capable of crushing 3,000 tons of sugarcane daily, Darbonne was Haiti’s last major sugar factory still operating in the 2000s— following the trend that saw the country’s industrial sugar mills shut down one by one through the 1990s due to competition from cheaper smuggled sugar. It employed over 1,400 people at its peak.
And it’s not just about sugar production. The mill powered the local grid with bagasse, supplied cane syrup for the output of Haitian distilled alcoholic spirits known as clairin or kleren and supported an ecosystem of transporters, street vendors and farmers. The enterprise’s closure left not only workers unemployed but also devastated a town historically known as Haiti’s capital of clairin, a staple of the local economy.
A turbulent history, the collapse of sugarcane and clairin
Inaugurated in 1983 under then-dictator Jean-Claude “Baby Doc” Duvalier, the factory symbolized the state’s ambitions to industrialize agriculture and reduce dependency on imports. But like other state-owned industrial enterprises, it was brought down by a mix of economic liberalization, mismanagement and political instability.
In 1986, Finance Minister Leslie Delatour’s sweeping trade reforms shuttered state-run sugar factories, paving the way for cheap foreign imports. In the 1990s, Haiti slashed tariffs on sugar to as low as 3%, making imported sugar far cheaper than local production. By the 2000s, Haiti was importing nearly all of its sugar and rice, devastating farmers and factories alike.
Following discussions with farmers in 1999 and renamed by President René Garcia Préval to honor slain journalist and agronomist Jean Léopold Dominique — who championed farmers’ rights and opposed ethanol imports — the factory reopened on Jan. 25, 2001, with Cuban technical assistance.
Operating with no transparency for nearly 14 years, production never reached sustainable levels. By 2015, after years of debt and shrinking cane harvests, operations ceased again.
Hébert Docteur, one of the many agricultural directors at the factory over the years, said the mill machine, which could crush 3,000 tons of sugarcane daily, had always operated below its capacity since opening.
“It crushed about 85,000 tons in its first year and between 120,000 and 180,000 tons from the second year onward,” the former director told The Haitian Times.
The shutdown has had ripple effects across Léogâne, where generations of families lived off sugarcane. Fields in the Grande Rivière area and others once covered in cane are now overgrown, sold for housing, or converted to other small-scale and subsistence crops.
“There were several sugarcane fields here. They no longer exist,” Romulus said in an interview with The Haitian Times, pointing to the vast plain mostly covered with concrete-roofed homes.
The loss also gutted clairin production, a vital part of Haiti’s cultural and economic life. Distillers who once bought syrup from Darbonne now scramble to source it from Mirebalais in the Centre Department, now controlled by gangs — when insecurity on the roads allows. Many small distilleries, also known as gildiv in Creole, have closed altogether.
While large-scale industrial sugar production has halted, some artisanal production of sugar and its derivatives, like clairin and rapadou—a solidified caramel-flavored syrup blocks or cones often wrapped in dried palm leaves— continues on small family farms.
“The syrup from Darbonne was cheaper and better,” said Delbrun Audry, a distiller and father of five who shut down his gildiv last year.
“Without it, our livelihood disappeared overnight.”
Others have turned to imported brown sugar as a substitute, driving up costs.
Numbers that don’t add up: A revival plan — or another mirage?
Officials acknowledge the factory was operating at a loss for years. Between 2002 and 2011, revenues averaged 31.7 million gourdes annually or about $239,000 (USD), while expenses exceeded 32.9 million gourdes or over $253,000. Yet the lack of transparent financial records fuels skepticism.
“The Cubans kept most of the data, but no reports were published,” said Martenot-Nels Narcius, a technical manager involved in revival efforts.
The factory also suffered from political meddling, according to a senior official from the sugar mill’s supervising agency—the Ministry of Agriculture, Natural Resources and Rural Development (MARNDR) —who requested anonymity to speak freely. “Hundreds were hired under political pressure. Many never worked a day. Buyers pushed for lower prices. The system was unsustainable.”
Today, the main entrance looks completely dilapidated and loose goats and cows graze where sugarcane carts once rolled. Yet Narcius insists the Haitian government is preparing a new revival plan, estimating it will cost at least $5 million.
“We are studying cane-growing capacity, planning maintenance, and exploring public-private financing,” he told The Haitian Times.
Not everyone is convinced. “The plain is no longer what it was,” said Johanna Jean-Noël, a resident near the plant.
“Land has been sold, houses built. People grow other crops. I doubt there’s enough sugarcane left for the mill to run again.”
Others remain hopeful. “The state must invest in replanting cane in the hills and unused land,” said Gérald Succès, a long-time contractual worker. “If they do, the factory can live again.”
Several well-known Haitian economists and agronomists specializing in economics refused to comment on the government’s plan to reopen the sugar mill after being contacted by The Haitian Times, citing a lack of sufficient information.
Economist Kesner Pharel of Group Croissance S.A. said that his firm had no information about this plant because officials have never published any of its financial statements.
The problem runs deeper than one factory
The debate over Darbonne reflects Haiti’s broader economic struggles. Agriculture once employed two-thirds of Haitians, but today it contributes less than 20% of the country’s Gross Domestic Product (GDP), according to the World Bank. Haiti now imports over 80 percent of its food, leaving it vulnerable to global price shocks.
As of late 2024 and early 2025, political and security unrest continues to harm agricultural output. A Mercy Corps report notes that gang violence is driving hunger and poverty to severe levels. The World Bank anticipates that Haiti’s GDP will continue to shrink, following six consecutive years of economic decline.
Sugar, once the backbone of the Haitian economy since colonial times, has virtually disappeared. With the collapse of factories from the south to the north, domestic production has given way almost entirely to imports. Meanwhile, insecurity, land grabs and lack of state support continue to push farmers out of production.
Haiti does not have any major functioning sugar mills today, despite several large-scale mills having operated there in the past. The country’s largest sugar factory, the Haitian-American Sugar Company (HASCO), closed in 1987. HASCO’s closure was followed by a wave of shutdowns in Les Cayes, Saint-Marc, among other places—including Darbonne.
“The fall of Darbonne [sugar factory] is the story of Haiti’s economy — disinvestment, mismanagement, and dependency,” Frantz Charles, an agricultural economist, said.
“If it is revived, authorities must not repeat the mistakes of the past.”
