The Lindy Test for Haitian Nonprofits: How to Cut Through the Fog and Find the Truth
There is a certain immortality to the things that last. The Lindy Effect tells us that the longer something has been around, the more likely it is to persist. It applies to books, traditions, even entire civilizations. Often, what is young burns bright in the moment but fades before it can be tested. Nowhere is this lesson more needed than in the crowded, cacophonous marketplace of Haitian nonprofits, especially those born from the diaspora’s impulse to “help.”
Haiti is a land of endurance, of things that have lasted despite the weight of centuries pressing down. But Haiti is also a land where the ephemeral masquerades as eternal. If you are Haitian, you have seen this cycle: the grand online launches, the impassioned speeches, those endless Gouyad-infested galas, where well-dressed speakers assure you that “change is coming” if only you would part with your hard-earned dollars. And then, a few years later, the website goes dark, the office in Port-au-Prince is shuttered (if there ever was one), and the leaders—if you can still find them—speak only of “lessons learned” before moving on to their next venture.
When attached to just ideas without substance, the word donation is problematic. Run like hell. Fe marronage!
The Problem: A Parade of Ghost Organizations
The Haitian diaspora has no shortage of ambition, nor of compassion. But it also has a terrible memory. Every year, new nonprofits emerge with grand visions of saving Haiti, led by people whose grasp on the realities of the country is as fragile as the foreign-funded projects they erect. They come with press releases but no proof of concept. They come with slogans but no roots in the communities they claim to serve. And when the money dries up, they vanish, leaving little behind but broken promises and another layer of cynicism among the people on the ground.
As Haitians, we must be harder. We must be skeptical. We must test these organizations against time itself. Before you give, before you support, before you attach your name, time, and money to yet another fleeting venture, ask these hard questions:
The Lindy Test: Separating the Real from the Fake
How long has this organization existed? If it is new, what are its founders’ track records? Are they part of a cycle of failed nonprofits, always relaunching under new names? True impact is slow, built over decades, not at a networking event.
Who truly owns and controls this initiative? A Haitian proverb reminds us: Si ou wè dlo nan pye bwa, konnen rasin li pa fon. (If you see water pooling around a tree, know that its roots are not deep–as in not deeply rooted in the Haitian soil.) Who holds the power? If the board is dominated by diaspora Haitians with no substantial Haitian leadership on the ground, be wary. Power should reside with those who live and work in Haiti, not just those who visit twice a year. (I use the 90/10 rule. 90% of the solutions and ownership must come from Haitians on the ground, 10% is the fiduciary responsibility of the diaspora leadership.)
Where is the money going? Request financial transparency. How much of the budget goes toward actual on-the-ground work, and how much is spent on administrative costs, salaries, or travel expenses for foreign staff? A real nonprofit should have clear answers.
Can this project function without foreign donations? Sustainability is key. If an organization cannot sustain itself beyond foreign grants, it is not built for longevity. It is built for dependency. Chen gen kat pye, men li pa ka mache sou tout chemen. (A dog has four legs but can’t walk all roads.) Not every idea is meant to survive.
Who benefits? Does this project uplift Haitian communities, or is it designed to give its founders social capital? Are the faces of the beneficiaries used only for pity-driven fundraising, or do they have a stake in the organization itself?
What are they actually doing? Grand vision statements are meaningless. Ask for specifics. Are they funding education? Building infrastructure? Supporting local businesses? Bouch granmoun pa di tintin. (An elder’s mouth does not speak nonsense.) Wisdom comes from experience, not from rehearsed speeches.
Concrete Steps to Avoid the Scammers
Attend at least three meetings before considering donating. Pay attention to how they respond to hard questions. Do they get defensive, or do they embrace scrutiny?
Talk to people in Haiti who actually work with the organization. A nonprofit’s reputation on the ground is worth more than its website. Call locals, visit their projects, and ask real beneficiaries what impact they’ve seen.
Follow the money. Ask for their financial reports; or better yet, is it posted on their websites, year over year? If they cannot provide clear, detailed numbers, that is a red flag. Fe marronage!
Look for local leadership. Organizations that do not meaningfully involve Haitians in Haiti will not survive. Avoid nonprofits where the diaspora controls everything but does little more than visit.
See if they have a plan beyond donor funds. The best initiatives should aim to function with minimal outside intervention. Pito nou lèd, nou la. (Better ugly and present, than beautiful and gone.) Avoid the belle fleurs sans odeur!
The Real Ones: Who Is Truly Making an Impact?
They exist, but they are few. They are the schools quietly educating children for decades. They are the small businesses supporting local economies. They are the initiatives that never make headlines, because they are too busy doing the work to be online constantly asking for donations.
If you must support an organization, choose one that has stood the test of time. Choose one that does not need to sell you a dream but instead shows you the reality of their impact. Men anpil, chay pa lou. (Many hands make the load lighter.) But only if the hands are truly there to lift, and not just to take.
Haiti has been here before. Haiti will be here long after. The question is, will we finally learn? Will we demand more? The Lindy Effect tells us that the things that endure have something real at their core. Let’s start looking for that, and stop falling for the rest.