Category: Latin America

Indigenous Groups Demand Change at COP30

The United Nations Climate Change Conference, or COP, brings together nearly every country annually for a “multilateral decision-making forum on climate change.” Leaders in business, science, governance, and civil society organizations attend to “strengthen global, collective and inclusive climate action.” In the first organized protests at a major climate summit since 2021, thousands of Indigenous activists marched the streets of Belém, Brazil, the site of COP30 in 2025, to demand action on a range of issues. COP30 Executive Director Ana Toni stressed that the protestors had legitimate concerns and that Brazil’s democratic government allows for “different forms of protest.” Protestors travelled from across South America to call for Indigenous representation in the formulation of global climate policy and to spotlight local Indigenous land sovereignty issues.  

Leaders at COP30 climate panel
Leaders discuss climate action at COP30 panel. By: peopleimages.com. Source: Adobe Stock. Asset ID#: 1782077705

Demand for Demarcation 

Signs at the marches read “demarcation now,” demanding that states, particularly Brazil, transfer legal ownership of land to Indigenous peoples. Brazil’s Minister for Indigenous Peoples, Sonia Guajajara, echoed the protesters’ sentiment, claiming that one goal of COP30 is to ensure that “countries recognise the demarcation of Indigenous lands as climate policy.” Demarcation is more than an issue of sovereignty or law; it is also a strategy for environmental conservation. Indigenous communities tend to their local forests and bodies of water using unique cultural knowledge. Some research suggests that Indigenous caretaking can enhance wildlife biodiversity, decrease deforestation, and mitigate disease. The UN’s Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP) recognizes that Indigenous cultural practices “[contribute] to sustainable and equitable development and proper management of the environment.”  

Amid the encroachment of mining companies and the recent authorization of oil drilling near the mouth of the Amazon River, one Indigenous leader stated, “We want our lands free from agribusiness, oil exploration, illegal miners and illegal loggers.” He also said, “We can’t eat money,” critiquing the focus on climate finance at previous COP summits while environmental degradation continues.

Advocates have called for the Brazilian government to abandon the marco temporal legal theory, which holds that only lands allotted to Indigenous peoples during the 1988 adoption of the Brazilian constitution are eligible for demarcation.

In a breakthrough, the Brazilian government announced at COP30 that it would, for the first time since 2018, demarcate ten Indigenous lands. The UNDRIP states that redress, including land repatriation, should be provided to Indigenous peoples whose property was taken without their consent. All 193 UN member states have adopted the UNDRIP, but it is a non-binding declaration, meaning states must decide whether to incorporate its ideals in their national laws. Brazil’s demarcation efforts exemplify the commitments outlined in the UNDRIP.

Violence in Guarani-Kaiowá

The murder of Guarani and Kaiowá Indigenous peoples during the final week of COP30 by private security forces demonstrates the importance of demarcation and protection of Indigenous lands and their peoples. Attacks on the Guarani and Kaiowá communities over land disputes in the state of Mato Grosso Do Sul, Brazil, have an ongoing history. In 2024, the head of UN Human Rights in South America called for land demarcation and a full investigation into these attacks. In the Guarani-Kaiowá struggle to regain sovereignty over their land, which has largely been lost to agribusiness, activists and spokespersons have been targeted by security forces allegedly hired by estate owners.  

Global Witness has tracked murders and disappearances of environmental defenders since 2012, and Indigenous leaders, particularly in Central and South American countries, are overrepresented among the victims of these attacks. According to the report, extractive, land, and agribusiness industries have been linked to these attacks. These attacks underscore the importance of demarcation for Indigenous peoples in South America. 

Indigenous woman walks on a mountainside in Peru.
Indigenous woman walks on a mountainside in Peru. By: sayrhkdsu. Source: Adobe Stock. Asset ID#: 451597782

Brazil’s Environmental Policy 

Before the conference, the Brazilian government positioned itself as a climate leader, but some have criticized the current administration’s inconsistent attitude toward environmental conservation. President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva has overseen a significant reduction in deforestation, which was ramped up under former President Bolsonaro’s leadership, but some environmental groups have denounced the recent authorization of oil drilling near the Amazon River. The president argues that oil will remain a necessity for years to come and that Brazilians should profit from it. Others point to the Amazon rainforest’s crucial role in storing carbon and reducing global atmospheric greenhouse gases. Some evidence suggests that the Amazon could become a savannah in the coming years as deforestation and drought intensify.  

Like Brazil’s broader environmental policy, recent actions have included successes for Indigenous rights, as well as failures to protect marginalized groups. The country recently undertook the Ywy Ipuranguete, or “Beautiful Land“, initiative, which aims to strengthen Indigenous-led land management efforts across fifteen Indigenous lands, accounting for six million hectares of land. The Brazilian Biodiversity Fund states, “the project focuses on strengthening sustainable territorial management.” When Indigenous communities are given access to collective property rights over land, there is a marked decrease in deforestation in these areas. Experts at a 2019 UN conference highlighted the importance of Indigenous participation in conservation efforts. 

The Federal Prosecutor’s Office in Brazil is suing the mining company Vale and the Brazilian government for “heavy metal contamination in the bodies of Xikrin Indigenous people.” The company’s nickel mining contaminated the Catete River and Indigenous lands, the lawsuit alleges. A study conducted by the Federal University of Para found nickel levels as high as 2,326% above the safe limit in one woman.  

Aerial view of Amazon rainforest in Brazil.
Aerial view of Amazon rainforest in Brazil. By: Curioso.Photography. Source: Adobe Stock. Asset ID#: 339931047

COP30 Outcome 

Brazil’s tepid attitude towards climate policy reflects the results of COP30. While $5.5 billion was raised for the Tropical Forests Forever Fund, with 20% going to Indigenous communities, the Conference fell short of an explicit commitment to move away from fossil fuels—despite a warning from scientist Carlos Nobre before the final talks that continuing fossil fuel use beyond 2040 will lead to catastrophic temperature increases, collapsing the Amazon rainforest ecosystem. UN leadership emphasized the significance of a multilateral agreement in an era of geopolitical strife, despite the agreement’s limitations. The COP30 president, André Corrêa do Lago, conceded that “some […] had greater ambitions for some of the issues at hand,” acknowledging the gap between the Indigenous protestors’ demands for a radical change in climate policy and the material commitments made at the Conference. 

In a potent moment of recognition for Indigenous grievances, do Lago held an Indigenous baby before leading a group of protestors to an hours-long discussion. Indigenous participation in COP30 yielded wins for Indigenous communities, even if the global commitments did not go as far as some hoped. 15 governments agreed to support the Intergovernmental Land Tenure Commitment, which will “collectively recognise and strengthen 160 million hectares of Indigenous Peoples and local community lands” across tropical forest regions. While progress in the fight for environmental protection and Indigenous rights is staggered, Indigenous protestors made their presence felt at COP30, showing the world that Indigenous participation in environmental conservation matters. 

 

Digital ECA Bill: Brazil’s Bold New Online Protections for Minors

The internet is one of the fastest-growing things ever, with communities connecting billions of people worldwide every day. It’s used for business, communication, leisure, and everything in between. However, there are also potential dark sides to the web. Minors in particular can be exploited on the internet to be pressured into self-harm, be targeted by manipulative advertising, or even have their images exploited by AI. In response to these concerns, Brazil has passed a new landmark law defining new rules and regulations for companies handling the information of and providing services to underage people.

Online Dangers to Minors

People can connect with each other across the globe using the internet. That contact can be immediate and difficult to monitor, and it can also result in potentially dangerous data leaks. In the past, there have been issues with information and images that minors post being harmfully misused. For example, photos posted by Brazilian children were gathered into databases and fed to generative AI, which was then used to create harmful images of other children. Even if the information posted and shared by children is not inherently harmful or risky, it can still be misused with potentially harmful consequences.

Brazil, in particular, faces greater online risks due to its citizens’ strong online presence– Brazil ranked second in the world in average screen time for its citizens. When analyzing the digital habits of children in Brazil in 2025, the Brazilian Internet Steering Community found that a reported 92% of minors aged 9-17 were using the internet. Furthermore, 85% of children surveyed reported having an account on popular social media sites, highlighting an increased vulnerability for many of them with these connections to the online world.

A child in Brazil
A young native Brazilian girl Source: Pedro França/MinC (upload on Flickr by Ministério da Cultura), CC BY 2.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0>, via Wikimedia Commons

Any information put online, as well as user behaviors, can also be tracked and exploited. While this is a common tactic for companies to create profiles of people to target ads and services at them, there were examples highlighted in Brazil of surveillance and tracking through platforms used for online schooling. In 2022 and 2023, Human Rights Watch released its findings that multiple different sites used for online schooling, some of them official government sites, had surveilled their students. Not only were they tracking their behaviors during the use of the site and school hours, but they also gathered information across the web and during all hours of the day.

These are only a few highlighted instances of violations of children’s right to privacy. Some of the surveillance tactics were so intense that they were called “the digital equivalent of logging video surveillance each time a child scratches their nose or grasps their pencil in class.” Tracking information on the internet is not uncommon for many sites and organizations, but, from a human rights standpoint, it is inappropriate to be using intense surveillance tactics like these against children. Once the public became aware of these surveillance tactics used by websites used by children for online schooling, some of these websites were taken down from the internet or had to restructure their data collection practices.

Inside the New Bill

To combat these violations and provide more protection for its underage populations, Brazil has just recently passed a new law. On September 17 of this year, the Digital ECA bill was officially signed by Brazilian President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva and will come into effect next year. Within this new legislation, there are numerous significant enhancements and additions to children’s privacy and protection.

Official Portrait of Brazilian President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva
Official Portrait of Brazilian President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva Source: Palácio do Planalto from Brasilia, Brasil, CC BY 2.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0>, via Wikimedia Commons

According to the breakdown of the new policy by the International Association of Privacy Professionals, the Digital ECA bill will:

  • Apply for all service providers on the internet where their platform is likely to be accessed by, and is easily accessible for, anyone under 18.
  • Federally prohibit surveillance and profiling techniques in attempts to target and market to minors.
  • Require service providers to provide protections that prevent children from accessing inappropriate material, with extreme material, such as pornography and alcohol, specifically requiring more than just self-declaration as proof of age.
  • Mandate parental supervision tools on platforms that allow for protected privacy settings and proper handling of associated data.

The Digital ECA bill is broad in its scope of protections, as well as the tech services it will impact. It addresses numerous concerns across various industries and practices with these points. There can be difficulties with enforcing new laws such as this, but, as discussed in the next section, Brazil has implemented new authoritative institutions to help tackle this issue.

New Governing Bodies

To enforce the new policies outlined in the Digital ECA bill and provide further guidance and regulations, the creation of a specialized authority was necessary. The Brazilian National Data Protection Agency (ANPD) was established by Brazilian President Luiz as the regulatory body tasked with enforcing compliance with the new bill.

The ANPD issues official advice for companies on how to comply with the Digital ECA bill, makes legal regulations enforceable with fines, can temporarily revoke companies’ ability to continue their activities, and can enact permanent suspension on companies that fail to uphold this new law. By utilizing these powers, the ANPD can ensure that companies are properly penalized for using unlawful tactics against minors online.

Picture of the headquarters of the ANPD in Brazil
A picture of the headquarters for the ANPD in Brazil Source: Senado Federal, CC BY 2.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0>, via Wikimedia Commons

While these federal powers are new for the ANPD, they show that real power has been vested in this initiative for online protections. Time will tell how effective these strategies are, especially as the new bill comes into practice next year, but they show that government attention is being brought to these issues.

Conclusion

Brazil has made bold new strides in order to address online dangers for its underage population. By providing clear legal regulations and laws, as well as by establishing a governing body with the authority to enforce these rules, Brazil has significantly expanded its protections for children. Not only does this increase the privacy and safety of Brazil’s population, but it also serves as a strong example to the rest of the world on how to create a human rights-oriented change. Brazil is one example in a growing trend of countries strengthening protections for their citizens’ online content, privacy, and human rights.

Racism and Colorism in Cuba

Because racism and colorism are persistent parts of reality in the world we inhabit, this blog post will be focusing on racism and colorism, specifically in Cuba. Cuba, an island located in the Caribbean, has dealt with racism historically and currently. On December 9th, 2024, representatives of the Cuban state and civil society met at the International Conference Cuba 2024 for the Decade of African descendants, which promotes an anti-racist cause. Five years previous to this, the Cuban Council of Ministers approved the National Program Against Racism and Colorism because they felt that there was a strong need to eliminate prejudices in Cuba. One may ask what some of the things that led to the Council’s decision were. It is therefore important to look at Cuba’s history in order to understand the current Cuban state.

Historical Context

Green Sedan Parked in Front of Building
Green Sedan parked in front of building. Source: Pexels; Photo by Yuting Gao: https://www.pexels.com/photo/green-sedan-parked-on-front-of-building-1637112/


Cuba has an extensive colonial history; it was colonized by the Spanish. Until 1810, Cuba was officially part of the vast Spanish Empire that spread out across the Americas. It was also one of the key ports in the Atlantic world of plantation economies and slavery. According to Alexander von Humboldt, the Spanish Empire represented the true wealth of America, because the competing colonies were small islands and coastal settlements. Spain lost its mainland colonies during the Spanish American wars of independence, which lasted until about 1830, but the majority of the Cuban elite remained loyal to Spain for economic reasons. The Cuban colony had previously built a crucial sugar industry that relied on an extensive amount of slave labor. Havana and Matanzas had become the wealthiest agricultural region in the Atlantic/ American world. It was home to a highly industrialized form of export agriculture known as “Cuba A” or “Big Cuba,” characterized by large-scale slavery, modern sugar mills and advanced infrastructure like railroads. From 1820 to 1870, Cuba also depended heavily on the illegal slave trade, which provided the financial and human foundation for its expanding sugar-based economy.

Racism in Cuba was based on supposed biological differences. The first efforts to develop a legal understanding of the Cuban Black class were undertaken by Spain’s imperial elite through the introduction of new slave codes in 1785 and 1789. In the “Código Negro Carolino” for the island of Santo Domingo, the Crown and its colonial power structures aimed to codify a rigid hierarchy of social classes organized according to skin color and geographic ancestry which was based on Africa. At the bottom of this system was the “negro class” made up of enslaved people. Right above the enslaved people were the free people of color, classified as Blacks, Mulattos, and Pardos.

Marriage across these color lines allowed for limited movement within the hierarchy. When a darker woman ranging in classification from Black to light mulatta married a lighter-skinned man, their children could occupy one of several intermediary ranks of Tercerones and Cuarterones. By the sixth generation, if the paternal line had consistently remained white, the descendants could legally be recognized as white. As these codes established and reinforced the boundaries of the Black class, separating it sharply from other colonial castes, the Spanish Crown opened paths for social mobility. Wealthy Morenos, Pardos, and mulattos were permitted to purchase the privileges of whiteness such as title “don,” membership in elite professional guilds, and higher education. As a result, these reforms both institutionalized races as a legal category and reinforced Cuba’s racial order. However, limited upward socioeconomic mobility was available for those who could afford it.


Bringing it Back to the Present

Man Wearing Straw Hat While Smoking
Man wearing straw hat, smoking a cigar. Source: Pexels; Photo by Anton: https://www.pexels.com/photo/man-wearing-straw-hat-while-smoking-47296/


Castroism, though it claims to be egalitarian and did result in material gains for the Afro-Cuban population, did not eradicate racism. Behind all of the government’s efforts to promote equality hid the continual traces of colorism and racism in Cuba. Although Cuba projected itself internationally as a champion of racial justice, this image hid continuous forms of inequalities at home. After the Cuban revolution, official claims that racism had been eliminated made public discussions of race taboo. The Castro government even dissolved Afro-Cuban clubs and associations that had long served as spaces for advocacy and mutual support. This is in direct violation of Article 1 of the UDHR which states that all human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights and that they are endowed with reason and conscience and should act towards one another in a spirit of brotherhood. The silencing of Afro-Cuban Clubs that served as a place for advocacy shows that the government and others within Cuban society did not want Blacks to have much of a say-so, perhaps because they did not feel as if the Afro-Cubans had the same status and dignity as the rest of the population.

This illusion of racial unity began to unravel following the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1989. Subsequent reforms reshaped Cuba’s economy and exposed the racial disparities that revolutionary rhetoric had long denied. Today, racial hierarchies remain deeply embedded in everyday life. In fact, speaking openly about racial inequality can result in social backlash. This was the case as Afro-Cuban clubs face backlash as they tried to talk about disparities in the Afro-Cuban community and provide advocacy. This is also a direct violation of the UDHR’s preamble as it describes that freedom of speech should be enjoyed by all. It is also a violation of Article 20, which says that “everyone has the right to freedom of peaceful assembly and association.”


Colorism

Colorful Cuban Street Vendor with Basket of Flowers
Colorful Cuban street vendor with basket of flowers. Source: Pexels; Photo by Fernando Sánchez Aranguren: https://www.pexels.com/photo/colorful-cuban-street-vendor-with-basket-of-flowers-32512015/

One way that colorism and anti-Blackness manifest in Cuba occurs in the tourism industry. Tourism is one of the country’s main industries, and job postings in this field often use coded phrases such as searching for “buena presencia,” which translates to “good appearance”. “Good appearance” implicitly refers to physical features that are less common among Cuba’s Black population. Such practices continuously push the social and economic dominance of whiteness and scream the remnant voices of colonialism.

Colorism is also prevalent in homes, which is where racial learning begins. Cuban families are often racially diverse, and siblings can be categorized differently depending on their appearances. Within households, casual comparisons between pelo malo, which means “bad hair” and is used to refer to kinkier and darker hair, and pelo bueno, which translates to “good hair,” reflect and reproduce racial hierarchies. This shows that many Black Cubans encounter prejudice first not from the government or from other citizens, but from relatives who believe the same biases and prejudices that marginalize them.

Afro-Cubans are aware of this prejudice, as is made clear in an interview conducted by Lulu Garcia Navarro, a journalist who went to Cuba during a 2021 protest. She found that it was the Afro-Cubans that represented the majority of those involved in the protests. She said that during her visits to Cuba, she heard Afro-Cubans talk about how they are referred to in a different way or discussed differently than their white or lighter-skinned counterparts. She provided more context for listeners by interviewing Dr. Amalia Dache, a professor at the University of Pennsylvania who researches Cuba, about this phenomenon. Dache confirmed that the lighter-skinned Cuban population saw the darker skinned Afro-Cuban population as subordinate or as second-class citizens. She then said that “The colonial system of race did not end with the revolution.” Clearly, Cuba has a long way to go when it comes to building a society that respects all people. Still, there are efforts to improve, as demonstrated by the strong Cuban presence at the May 2025 meeting of the Permanent Forum on People of African Descent at the United Nations. It is also encouraging to see that, since April 2018, there have been many high-level politicians in Cuba who are Black. As Raúl Castro noted in his April 2018 retirement speech, racism is still rife in Cuba. However, Afro-Cubans are working hard to change this.

Eyes on Catatumbo: Colombia’s Silent Humanitarian Crisis

In mid-January 2025, people living among rural hills and rivers of the Catatumbo subregion of Norte de Santander —along Colombia’s border with Venezuela— faced a drastic and sudden surge of violence. Rival armed groups clashed in a territorial battle that forced tens of thousands of men, women, and children to flee their homes in a matter of weeks. According to available estimates, more than 56,000 people were displaced during this outbreak. Entire communities were uprooted almost overnight. Families left behind crops, homes, and schools as they escaped through mountains, carrying little more than what they could hold. Some families traveled for days on foot, crossing rivers and unpaved trails, hoping to reach towns where humanitarian aid might be available. The journey itself was dangerous, exposing them to natural hazards, extreme weather, and the constant threat of encountering armed actors along the way.

The clashes also cut off humanitarian access, collapsing local health services and leaving thousands without food, shelter, or protection. The United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs reported that several municipalities, including El Tarra, Tibú, and Teorama, remain difficult to access even for aid convoys due to the presence of landmines and ongoing combat. These obstacles reveal not only the magnitude of the emergency but also the absence of a unified response strategy capable of addressing overlapping humanitarian, political, and security challenges. Medical teams attempting to bring vaccinations and essential medicines often have to reroute through alternative paths, delaying assistance to families in urgent need. Aid organizations have emphasized that the lack of reliable roads, combined with intermittent communications, hampers coordination and prevents the full scale of needs from being properly assessed.

Colombian army patrolling the streets, military forces on urban patrol in Colombia, soldiers securing the streets in Colombia, army troops conducting street patrol, Colombian military presence
Photo 1: Colombian army patrolling the streets. Source: Adobe Express. By: Alejandro. Asset ID# 1249540839.

A Conflict That Refuses to End

For many in Catatumbo, this is not a new story. The region has long been a zone of contestation, where fertile land, strategic routes, and a history of coca cultivation have drawn armed actors for decades. Despite multiple peace efforts, the Colombian government and the National Liberation Army (ELN) have failed to reach a lasting agreement, even after several rounds of talks in 2024 and early 2025. These breakdowns in dialogue have left a dangerous power vacuum, allowing the ELN and the dissident Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia (FARC) fronts to consolidate control in certain areas and tighten their grip on communities. Negotiations, often mediated by international actors, faltered due to persistent mistrust, accusations of non-compliance, and ongoing attacks during ceasefire periods.

Without a credible peace accord or strong state presence, civilians remain trapped between armed factions. Extortion, forced recruitment, and targeted assassinations continue to define daily life. In municipalities like Tibú, local residents report that shops must pay protection fees to avoid being attacked, while teachers and health workers face direct threats if they refuse to comply with armed groups’ demands or resist recruitment campaigns targeting young people. The persistence of conflict is also tied to the strategic importance of Catatumbo’s geography; its dense forests, mountainous terrain, and border with Venezuela make it a natural corridor for smuggling, illegal mining, and drug trafficking. Both the ELN and FARC dissidents use this border to move arms and coca paste, while Venezuelan armed groups exploit the instability to expand their influence.

For local residents, peace talks that never materialize mean that promises of safety remain words on paper, while violence continues to dominate daily life. As one community leader told the newspaper El Espectador in February 2025, “We are living between two wars—the one that happens in the mountains and the one that happens in silence when no one comes to help us.” This sentiment is echoed across Catatumbo, reflecting the frustration and fear that residents endure as cycles of displacement and insecurity continue year after year.

When the Crisis Fades from View

Despite the urgency and scale of this crisis, national and international coverage faded quickly after the first wave of reports in January and February 2025. That silence matters. When forced displacement disappears from headlines, so do the people living it. This invisibility normalizes neglect, delays humanitarian responses, and weakens accountability.

Based on the most recent protection analysis report, by April more than 62,000 people had been displaced and an additional 27,000 confined in their homes, unable to move because of landmines or threats from armed groups. Yet beyond a few humanitarian updates, public attention dwindled. One reason lies in the geography and access issues of Catatumbo. Journalists and medical staff face severe restrictions: entering many rural zones requires permission from the military or local armed actors. Donor fatigue also plays a role: international organizations have limited budgets and often prioritize higher-visibility crises. As a result, funding for Colombia’s internal displacement response in regions like Catatumbo has lagged.

The invisibility of the crisis is not just informational, it is political.

A view of indigenous children from the Embera people, displaced by armed conflict.
Photo 2: A view of indigenous children from the Embera people, displaced by armed conflict. Source: UN Photo; by Mark Garten; Unique Identifier: UN7715269.

The Stakes: Life, Dignity, and the Fabric of Communities

When a family flees their home at night carrying only what they can, they are not just moving, they are losing a way of life. Land, livelihood, and community ties are abruptly severed. Among those displaced in Catatumbo, families are separated, elders lose access to medication, and children miss months of school. Young people face a heightened risk of recruitment or exploitation. Humanitarian workers warn that amid the chaos, gender-based violence, human trafficking, and child recruitment are on the rise. These are not isolated incidents; they are part of a broader pattern of rights violations that undermine communities’ social fabric.

This is not only a crisis of numbers—it is a crisis of rights and belonging. When the state cannot or will not guarantee protection, internal borders form. These lines are not drawn on maps, but rather through abandonment, neglect, and fear. Those living within these invisible borders are often left to face violence alone. The humanitarian system’s focus on immediate relief, without long-term strategies for restitution or reintegration, risks perpetuating these cycles of vulnerability.

Cúcuta: The Border City Bearing the Weight

The humanitarian fallout has spilled into Cúcuta, one of the largest cities in Norte de Santander and a key crossing point to Venezuela. As displaced families arrive seeking refuge, schools, shelters, and hospitals are overwhelmed. Local authorities struggle to register new arrivals and provide basic assistance. Many displaced people sleep in overcrowded houses or informal settlements near the border, where conditions are precarious. Limited job opportunities push most into informal labor or survival economies. Meanwhile, the influx of people has intensified pressure on already fragile public services, deepening social inequality and tensions in host communities.

Organizations like the International Rescue Committee (IRC) and Pastoral Social have set up temporary aid centers offering hygiene kits, psychosocial support, and legal counseling. However, these efforts often operate with minimal funding and no long-term sustainability. Teachers in Cúcuta’s public schools have reported overcrowded classrooms, with some hosting up to 50 students, many of them recently displaced or migrants from Venezuela. Children often struggle to keep up academically, while parents face pressure to find income quickly, forcing many into informal work that provides little security.

Human rights observers, including the ACT Alliance, the Norwegian Refugee Council, and UNHCR, have warned that unless there is sustained national support, Cúcuta and the surrounding municipalities could soon become the epicenter of a prolonged displacement emergency.The city’s local government has called for international coordination, urging Bogotá, UN agencies, and the Venezuelan authorities to establish a humanitarian corridor. However, bureaucratic obstacles and diplomatic tensions between the two countries have stalled progress. Even when aid is allowed, delays and limited resources prevent sustained coverage for both immediate relief and long-term recovery.

 

A view of a migrant tent
Photo 3: Migrant tent. Source: Adobe Express. By Andrea Izzotti. Asset ID# 128345640.

Documentation and the Demand for Accountability

In the midst of this crisis, documentation plays a crucial and often lifesaving role. Human rights groups, journalists, and even the survivors themselves aren’t simply keeping track of events; they are building a record that can shape humanitarian responses, inform policy, and hold perpetrators accountable in the future. Organizations like Human Rights Watch, the Norwegian Refugee Council (NRC), and the United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA) rely heavily on reports from the field to see what’s really happening, identify urgent needs, and spot patterns of abuse. They collect this information through interviews with displaced families, surveys in affected communities, and photographic or video evidence of destroyed homes, schools, and infrastructure. Each record isn’t just a statistic—it’s a voice, a story, and a testimony from people whose experiences are too often ignored or silenced.

For families, documentation gives words to experiences that are otherwise invisible. It allows survivors to describe what happened, who was affected, and who is responsible. Lists of victims, personal testimonies, and photographs are far more than records, they’re tools for protection, reparations, and accountability. Imagine a parent reporting that their teenage child has been forcibly recruited by an armed group; that report isn’t just a number in a database. It can trigger emergency protection measures, alert authorities to ongoing recruitment campaigns, and eventually inform broader policy changes. Photographs of destroyed homes, abandoned fields, or burned schools can serve as concrete evidence in legal and advocacy processes, ensuring that destruction and loss don’t go unnoticed.

But documentation on its own isn’t enough. In Catatumbo, the state is often absent, and political will is inconsistent at best. Armed groups operate with near impunity, while local authorities may lack the capacity, or the security, to act on reports of abuse. Without a platform to turn these records into action, documentation risks becoming a snapshot of suffering rather than a catalyst for change. This is why media attention, advocacy, and international solidarity are so essential. Without them, even the most thorough documentation can sit in databases without effecting any real-world impact.

The Colombian Truth Commission (CEV) has stressed that remembering is key to preventing repetition. Its final report highlights how collective memory plays a central role in breaking cycles of violence. But if testimonies simply sit in a database without leading to policy reforms or justice initiatives, then impunity continues, and survivors remain vulnerable. In other words, documentation must have a purpose: it must feed into action, whether through legal avenues, public policy, or protective measures.

Local communities have also taken matters into their own hands. Community radio stations like Voces del Catatumbo act as informal archives of survival. They broadcast updates, report abuses, and provide essential information about displacement, health, and security. These stations give residents a platform to be heard in real time and foster a sense of connection in a region where isolation is a constant threat. They are also a reminder that documentation isn’t just a bureaucratic process—it’s lived, community-driven work that can save lives.

A passenger truck travels on the road between Riohacha and Uribia on La Guajira peninsula, Colombia.
Photo 4: A passenger truck travels on the road between Riohacha and Uribia on La Guajira peninsula, Colombia. Source: UN Photo; by Gill Fickling; Unique Identifier: UN7386312.

What We Can Do as Readers, Citizens, and Advocates

Keeping eyes on Catatumbo is both a moral and political act. Sharing verified information, reading humanitarian updates, and amplifying local voices helps keep the crisis visible. International partners can support local organizations with funding and technical assistance, while citizens can call for greater accountability from their governments and international institutions.

We must hold two truths together: the urgency of humanitarian needs today, and the necessity of long-term justice and inclusion. Attention, when sustained and informed, can make a difference.

If we listen to the people of Catatumbo—and now those arriving in Cúcuta—we learn that rebuilding is not only about returning to what once was. It is about imagining what could be: a community whose safety, dignity, and memory are protected, not merely by the absence of conflict, but by the presence of justice.

 

Memory Against Forgetting: Families of Colombia’s Falsos Positivos Lead the Fight for Dignity

When we talk about justice, it’s tempting to think first of courtrooms, judges, and laws. But for many Colombians, especially the families of victims of falsos positivos, justice has been built not only in tribunals but in memory itself: in the photos carried to marches, the murals painted in neighborhoods, the names shouted at demonstrations, the rituals performed year after year so that forgetting is impossible.

Between 2002 and 2010, thousands of young men — mostly poor, often from rural or marginalized communities — were killed by members of Colombia’s military and falsely presented as guerrillas killed in combat. These extrajudicial executions, known as falsos positivos, were incentivized by a warped system that rewarded body counts with promotions, money, and leave time.

For the families of the deceased, the pain was double: they suffered not only the violent death of their children, brothers, or fathers, but also the stigma of being told these dead loved ones were “terrorists.” For decades, official narratives denied their innocence. In response, parents, siblings, and loved ones took on the role of guardians of memory.

Today, as Colombia’s Special Jurisdiction for Peace (JEP) finally begins to hand down historic rulings against perpetrators, the country is reminded that these families’ insistence on remembrance is what made justice possible at all.

Sign that states mothers of Soacha and Bogota do not forget
Image 1: Sign “The mothers of Soacha and Bogota do not forget”. Source: Yahoo Images.

Memory as Resistance

In Colombia, the act of remembering has often been a political gesture. For mothers who lost their sons to falsos positivos, memory is more than grief: it is resistance against erasure.

One of the most emblematic groups is the Mothers of Soacha (Madres de Soacha). In 2008, dozens of women discovered their sons had been lured from Bogotá’s outskirts with promises of work, only to be killed hundreds of miles away and buried as guerrillas. For them, memory became a form of activism:

Photographs at protests: They carried enlarged portraits of their sons to public squares, confronting officials and society with faces that proved they were not anonymous guerrillas but young men with families, lives, and dreams.

Annual commemorations: Every year, they gather to honor the date of disappearance or death, keeping the stories alive in the community.

Murals and art: Walls in Soacha and beyond carry painted faces of the murdered youth, transforming public space into testimony.

This memorialization disrupts the state’s attempt to rewrite their deaths as a part of “combat.” It asserts: they lived, they were innocent, and they will not be forgotten.

Sign in favor of the Jurisdicción Especial para la Paz
Image 2: Sign in favor of the Jurisdicción Especial para la Paz. Source: Yahoo Images.

The Weight of Stigma

For families, memory is not only about honoring loved ones but also about countering stigma. Many recall being told by neighbors, even relatives, that their sons must have been guerrillas — why else would the army say so? The official record branded them criminals, compounding the loss with shame.

By publicly naming them, retelling their stories, and refusing silence, families reclaimed dignity. Memory became a way of restoring the humanity stripped away by both the bullets and the lies.

In that sense, memorialization is not passive. It is an active form of justice: refusing the false narrative, demanding truth, and forcing institutions to confront uncomfortable realities.

From Memory to Justice: Recent Developments

The persistence of families has borne fruit. This September (2025), the JEP issued its first substantive ruling on falsos positivos. Twelve ex-military officers from the Batallón La Popa were held responsible for 135 killings between 2002 and 2005. Instead of prison, their sentences include restorative projects: building memorials, contributing to truth-telling initiatives, and reparations.

For many families, the ruling is bittersweet. On one hand, it is the first time the state has officially recognized that their loved ones were not guerrillas but civilians murdered under a policy of deception. On the other, some feel restorative sanctions are insufficient for crimes of this magnitude.

Yet, what is undeniable is this: without the relentless work of victims’ families, there would be no case, no ruling, no justice at all. Their memory work forced the truth into public view, long before courts were willing to listen.

Memory Across Generations

Memorialization also has a temporal dimension. Parents age; siblings pass the torch. Children who never met their uncles now grow up seeing their faces in photos at family homes. Some youth groups have joined mothers in painting murals or organizing cultural events to keep the memory alive.

This intergenerational transmission matters. It means falsos positivos are not confined to dusty files or occasional headlines; they remain part of Colombia’s living social fabric. Memory ensures continuity, so history cannot be rewritten by official silence.

The Global Echo

Colombia is not alone in this. Around the world, victims’ families have taken up memorialization as a path to justice:

These movements share a belief: memory is part of justice when justice is delayed.

Image of women holding up signs with pictures
Image 3: Mothers of Plaza de Mayo. Source: Yahoo Images.

The Fragility of Memory

Yet memory is fragile. Murals are painted over. Political shifts can reduce funding for memorial projects. Denialist narratives re-emerge. Even now, some Colombian politicians downplay the scale of falsos positivos or frame them as “errors” of war rather than systematic crimes.

This is why the work of families remains so urgent. Their voices remind us that memory cannot be outsourced to institutions alone. It lives in communities, in stories told around dinner tables, in names recited at vigils.

A Country Still Healing

Colombia’s 2016 Peace Accord promised both truth and justice. The JEP was born to address atrocities like falsos positivos. Its rulings — like the one in September — are milestones. But healing requires more than verdicts.

It requires listening to families, supporting memorialization efforts, and integrating their memory work into the nation’s broader historical narrative. Museums, school curricula, public memorials, and state apologies can all help ensure that the falsos positivos are never repeated and never forgotten—and to that end, some rulings have ordered soldiers and officers to participate in community memorial projects, recognizing memory as a necessary path toward reconciliation.

 Memory as Our Responsibility

The parents and relatives of falsos positivos victims have shown extraordinary courage. They remind us that memory is not just about the past, it is about shaping the present and protecting the future.

By carrying photos, painting murals, and speaking truth, they have forced Colombia, and the world, to confront a reality that many preferred to ignore. Their work demonstrates that justice is not only legal but also cultural and emotional.

A Call to Remember

As readers, we too have a role. We can support memorialization efforts, share victims’ stories, and resist denialist narratives. If you are in Colombia, visit a memorial site, attend a commemoration, or learn the names of the victims in your region. If you are outside of Colombia, read about the Mothers of Soacha, amplify their voices, and connect their struggle with global movements for truth and justice.

Because in the end, forgetting is complicity. And memory — stubborn, painful, luminous memory — is the first step toward dignity, accountability, and peace.

 

Water Scarcity and Initiative for Sustainability in Peru

An alarming concern continues to grow in Latin American countries regarding drinking water. Due to water being an internationally recognized human right, international human rights law makes states work towards achieving universal access to water and sanitation. The implementation of these rights involves ensuring availability, accessibility, affordability, quality, safety, and acceptability.  

When water demand exceeds the supply due to scarcity caused by local ecological conditions and economic scarcity resulting from inadequate water infrastructure, we are dealing with water stress. It is a global problem, as billions of people worldwide lack access to adequate water, which affects public health, economic development, and international trade and can lead to conflict and mass migration. Moreover, as a consequence of the increased droughts, there is food insecurity, which leads to malnutrition, death in children, and an increase in infectious diseases.

The Causes of Water Stress 

In Latin America, despite efforts to increase water access, 77 million people still lack access to safe water, according to the World Water Council and the National Water Commission (Comisión Nacional del Agua, in Spanish). There is a lack of treatment of sanitation waste, which leads to untreated sewage in rivers, lakes, and underground aquifers. What’s more, natural phenomena such as hurricanes and El Niño have had significant repercussions on the water sources and infrastructure of the affected countries.  

In 1998, Hurricane Mitch killed 9,000 people in Central America, temporarily displacing 75% of the Honduran population. El Niño and La Niña have caused large-scale droughts and more severe storms. Furthermore, in 2020, Hurricanes Eta and Iota caused internal displacement in Guatemala. In 2023, Mexico experienced its driest year on record, while Uruguay declared a water emergency, according to the UN Development Programme. At the same time, Chile, Bogotá, and Mexico City were reported to be at risk of water depletion. Due to the progression of these phenomena, scientists believe that climate change will continue to intensify weather patterns. 

Aftermath of Eta and Iota in Honduras.
Image 1: The aftermath of Eta and Iota in Honduras. Source: Yahoo Images.

Within the region, Peru has one of the lowest percentages of access to safe drinking water. Since the Amazon spans across three countries, droughts in the Amazon and other events have affected Peru. According to the UNICEF (United Nations Children’s Fund) press release above on inequalities in access to safe drinking water in Peruvian households, the northeastern region of Loreto, Peru, is the most affected by ongoing drought, mostly impacting remote communities. There has been biodiversity loss in 22 of the country’s 26 regions due to wildfires and increasing air pollution.

Current and Future Initiatives 

Because remote communities are the most affected, environmental studies and more sustainable efforts would benefit 63,000 small farmers in rural poverty who live in vulnerable ecosystems. Therefore, different projects have been developed to optimize irrigation systems and promote better water management. 

Rio Seco pond in Peru. Source: Yahoo Images.
Image 2: Rio Seco Pond in Peru. Source: Yahoo Images.

One of the projects is PRO ICA (Project Pisco-Villacurí-Lanchas). The National Authority of Water requested the UN Program for Environment and UNOPS (United Nations Office for Project Services) to implement the project in El Valle de Rio Pisco (Rio Pisco Valley) and the ravine of Rio Seco (Dry River). These are located on the south coast of Peru, one of the country’s most important agricultural zones, which faces several problems with water contamination, scarcity, and supply.

To secure clean water, the Nature Conservancy (TNC) established three water funds for Lima, Piura, and Cusco. This came partnered with two pieces of legislation that established a unique, self-sustaining mechanism to fund water source protection. Its goal is to maintain the most efficient and effective natural infrastructure projects and nurture relationships with the communities that affect the conservation areas. These initiatives have been assigned to help strengthen existing initiatives such as farmers’ committees, modern irrigation proposals, productive reconversion, and habitat restoration. Over 1,600 participants, including government officials and irrigation workers, are involved in workshops to improve knowledge on subjects such as numerical modeling, groundwater hydrology, and the use of specialized equipment. As agencies of the United Nations (UN), UNEP (UN Environment Programme) and UNOPS are committed to achieving the objectives of sustainable development. 

Cuenca del rio pisco
Image 3: The basin of Rio Pisco in Peru. Source: Yahoo Images.

Since mountain glaciers are melting due to climate change and the rainy season is becoming shorter, new initiatives focus on reviving pre-Incan technology. According to a BBC report, civilizations in the Los Andes Mountains had to deal with seasonal rain; therefore, they developed hydrological innovations, a strategy invented by the Huari (WAR-I), Amunas are water canals that take water from mountain streams and move it to infiltration basins. This approach allows the water to go back to the rivers that supply Lima. Therefore, having more amunas would allow for a higher supply during the dry season. Thanks to these findings, Sedapal, the water and sewage service, plans to invest $3 million in building two more water canals.  

One obstacle Peru faces regarding water management is the gray areas of enforcement jurisdiction. Despite its laws to protect wetlands, actors such as the NGO Forest Trends work to define those areas by meeting with authorities and developing a manual so the locals know who the points of contact are and what to do (e.g., taking photos and GPS coordinates, harvesting plants, ensuring water flow, etc.). There is uncertainty about the recovery time for the soil, but there’s hope that the Peruvian people can help nature repair itself by using natural techniques.  

Although many scientists agree that using nature-based solutions to address climate change is beneficial, critics view it as a diversion from other key conversations, such as transitioning to clean energy or reducing large-scale emissions of fossil fuels. Ultimately, initiatives that revive ancient practices are a step toward a future where we can eventually find alternatives for our energy sources and produce less pollution. A key contribution to making these initiatives happen is continuous international coordination. Many freshwater sources cross international borders, requiring cooperation among nations. As a result, collaboration, funding, and the revival of native practices could make a difference in addressing water scarcity. 

The Future of Trees in the Amazon and the World

If someone offered to pay you to keep trees thriving in your backyard, would you take the deal? This is the new idea proposed by Brazil to tackle climate change, starting with trees.

Prioritizing environmental sustainability has been a challenge in Brazil over the past few years. In contrast to its predecessor, the new administration has expressed its desire to restore sustainability efforts and implement stronger tree protection policies.  

Within the Amazon
Image 1: Within the Amazon. 27/02/2016. Photo: Valdemir Cunha/Greenpeace. Source: Yahoo Images

Background on the Amazon

Looking back at history, the reasons for implementing financial incentives to protect trees date back to the 1970s. Under a military dictatorship then, Brazil had clear plans to develop and integrate the Amazon into the national economy by increasing agriculture and cattle breeding in the region. To achieve this, the government incentivized people to move and start their own agricultural villages deep within the forest. Following the dream of expanding land and conquering the Amazon, Brazil continued to utilize the forest for economic development by building highways, allowing farmers to settle and work their way into the forest.  

The rhetoric of using the Amazon for national economic profit was put on hold when President Luiz Inacio “Lula” da Silva took office in 2003. Then, several steps were taken to protect the Amazon. Little by little, legal protections were put in place, with the help of Marina Silva, who was appointed to the environment ministry in 2003 to set up a plan to deal with deforestation. At the time, only 28% of the forest was protected. Therefore, the government expanded protections by demarcating Indigenous territories, adding reserves where business activity was banned, and increasing the land where nut harvesting and rubber-tapping took place because of their low contamination and impact on the forest. To find a balance between economic profit and sustainability, the environment ministry stretched law protections to 47% of the Amazon. What’s more, the budget for the Brazilian Institute of Environmental and Renewable Natural Resources (IBAMA)—a police agency that investigates people committing illegal deforestation—also increased.  

By 2012, Brazil made significant progress towards sustainable solutions. What once was a call of worry by world news over the rapid deforestation shifted to optimism about the Amazon’s recovery. As awareness of the rainforest’s significance grew, so did the public uproar. Luciana Gatti, senior researcher at Brazil’s National Institute for Space Research, emphasized the Amazon’s critical role in absorbing CO2. However, due to deforestation, the Amazon is reaching a turning point where it will emit more carbon than it absorbs. Unfortunately, when Jair Bolsonaro took office in 2019, his policies revived the development-focused rhetoric of the 1970s. Bolsonaro, known for being a critic of environmental protection, rejected the idea that the Amazon is the heritage of humanity, insisting that it belongs to Brazil and to Brazil only.

During the 2018 campaign, Bolsonaro vowed not to designate “one more centimeter” of Indigenous territory. Human Rights Watch puts Bolsonaro’s agenda in perspective. With 241 Indigenous territories awaiting demarcation, illegal logging, mining, and land grabbing in Indigenous lands increased by 137 percent in 2020 compared with 2018. The non-profit Socio-Environmental Institute (ISA) reported that deforestation in Indigenous territories during Bolsonaro’s first three years in office increased by 138 percent compared to 2016-2018. What’s more, the Report Violence Against Indigenous Peoples in Brazil linked high COVID-19 deaths to the government’s poor response and lack of monitoring in the Amazon. As a result of government negligence, invaders committing illegal activities in the area spread the virus through Indigenous villages. 

In addition, Bolsonaro’s administration reversed several environmental policies, weakening IBAMA. The agency experienced budget cuts of up to 30 percent from 2019 to 2020 and decreased staff by 55 percent during the same year. 

The amazon rainforest is burning as Bolsonaro fans the flames, from orinoco tribune.
Image 2: The Amazon rainforest burning from increased deforestation. Source: Yahoo Images

Overall, indigenous territories became more vulnerable thanks to weakening agencies and relaxed environmental regulations.  

The Secretary for Indigenous Peoples Acre State Government, Francisca Arara, continues to emphasize how critical Indigenous people are to preserving the forest and to guard and provide protection services that benefit everyone. Arara also explains that among the helpful laws that have pushed the improvement in deforestation are the jurisdictional programs such as the REDD+ program, the SISA law, and the demarcation of territories, all of which promote sustainable use of land and natural resources, and give Indigenous people autonomy and over spaces they know how to take care of best.  

What is the plan? 

After a change in leadership, Brazil proposes a fund of $125 billion to pay developing countries for the trees they protect. In other words, it is an incentive to stop deforestation. The Tropical Forests Forever Facility or T.F.F.F would be an investment-based fund, not financed by donations per se. The plan is to follow a bank’s framework: get deposits and reinvest them for a profit. It would look like this: Rich nations and big philanthropies would loan $25 billion to T.F.F.F, which would be repaid with interest.

The money invested would help attract $100 billion from private investors. Then, the fund would reinvest the $125 billion in a portfolio that could generate enough returns to repay investors. The excess would be used to pay for about 70 developing countries based on how much healthy tropical forest they still have. The countries that receive funds would be paid $4 per hectare of land with old-growth or restored trees and would incur a $400 fee for each hectare of forest lost. 

Some of the controversies or pushbacks surrounding the project are part of figuring out the program’s logistics: the risk of subjecting the funds to the swings of financial markets, the controls and regulations of how the money will be spent, etc.   

The environment as a human right 

Recognizing a healthy environment as a human right is a relatively recent development. International agreements, such as the 1989 Convention on the Rights of the Child, acknowledge the importance of a clean and healthy environment for a good standard of living. These agreements emphasize the government’s responsibility to take action against environmental pollution and its risks. According to the UN Committee on Economic, Social, and Cultural Rights, the right to health should be extended to those factors that determine good health, such as access to safe drinking water and sanitation.

However, debates continue regarding how to define and codify into law the rights of nature, as well as challenges of jurisdiction and resource availability and allocation at the local and international levels.

In 2022, the UN declared a healthy environment a human right. While this declaration is not legally binding, it reinforces the notion that a clean and sustainable environment is essential to a dignified standard of living.

A promising approach to addressing environmental degradation is using financial incentives to combat deforestation. This model means hope for developing countries that face a difficult choice between economic growth and ecological conservation. To the greediest, making money over some trees may be tempting. Initiatives like the T.F.F.F seem to be a forward-thinking funding mechanism that could be applied to fund programs and organizations worldwide to solve human rights issues. Encouraging global collaboration on environmental protection promotes the recognition of a healthy environment as a fundamental human right.  

Arbitrary Detentions in Venezuela

Imagine being arrested in the middle of the night—no warrant, no explanation. This is the reality in Venezuela, where arbitrary detentions are used as a tool of political repression.  As noted in “Behind the Ballot: Corruption, Repression, and Hope in the 2024 Venezuelan Elections,” politically motivated arbitrary detentions have run rampant in the country, years before and after Maduro’s victory was announced on July 28th by the National Electoral Council (CNE).

What Is Arbitrary Detention?

The United Nations defines arbitrary detentions as the deprivation of personal liberty (inability to leave at will) paired with unfairness, injustice, unpredictability, and a lack of proper legal procedures. Following the definition, Amnesty International also identified the patterns of arbitrary arrest in Venezuela to be: arrest without warrants; enforced disappearance followed by arrest; the use of torture or other cruel, inhuman, or degrading treatment; use of military tribunals; the use of special courts such as courts for terrorism cases; undue delays in investigating times and, subjection to criminal proceedings that make no progress and restrict the persons’ liberty, and retaliation as an aim of detention.

National Bolivarian Police (PNB) arrest student during demonstration
Image 1: National Bolivarian Police (PNB) arrest a student during a demonstration. Source: Yahoo Images

While protests have sparked and died down in the country, organizations such as Amnesty International, Foro Penal, and Observatorio Venezolano de Conflictividad Social have kept track of protests and detainees, documenting their experiences and the violations committed against them. Their websites contain contact forms and question banks to reach out for questions, information, and services.

The ultimate purpose of arbitrary detentions, as determined by these organizations, is to neutralize any perceived threat against the Maduro administration, where criticism is ultimately rejected, censored, and attacked. The key targets are activists, human rights defenders, protesters, and anyone suspected of opposing the government and its policies.

Inside Venezuela’s Institutions

Based on research on the correlation between stigmatization and politically motivated arbitrary detentions carried out by Amnesty International and the stories mentioned previously, both state and non-state actors are behind the detentions: SEBIN, Directorate General of Military Counterintelligence (DGMC), Local police, and armed colectivos. Since 2019, the Bolivarian National Guard (GNB) and the Directorate General of Military National Intelligence (DGCIM) continue to be the first and second main perpetrators of arbitrary detentions, third and fourth places occupied by the Special Action Forces (FAES) of the Bolivarian National Police (PNB) and by the PNB themselves.

As mentioned before, legal institutions continue to be manipulated by the misuse of anti-terrorism and public security laws to justify arrests. As a result, 33.3% of these cases were brought before ordinary courts with criminal justification, 9% before courts with special jurisdiction over terrorism, and 6.6% before courts with military jurisdiction. Lack of judicial independence is not uncommon since there is interference from the executive branch.

At least 60 people arbitrarily detained were prosecuted in special courts with jurisdiction over terrorism in 2019. What’s more, invoking the Code of Military Justice—which gives the military courts jurisdiction over military offenses not only committed by military personnel but also by civilians—has led to the persecution of hundreds of civilians before military courts. They are commonly charged with treason or rebellion. In fact, the military courts do not meet the requirements for impartiality and independence, reflecting a poor separation of powers and influence from the executive branch, according to the International Commission of Jurists.

From Protests to Prison: A Timeline of Arbitrary Detentions

2013-2019

Reports of inhumane treatment and torture of political detainees surfaced in 2013 after Maduro won the April elections, and opposition leader Henrique Capriles accused him of fraud. Protests broke out in the streets, resulting in many detentions. As a response, a civil rights group filed a complaint to the International Criminal Court in Hague to investigate violations of human rights committed against detainees.

In 2017, protests sparked again to express displeasure towards a ruling issued by the Supreme Court that made the National Assembly—the unicameral legislature of the country—powerless. As a result, 5,000 people were detained. A rights group shares how the detainees were beaten, sexually assaulted, or given electrical shocks, according to AP News.

Emirlendris Benitez is one of many arbitrary detainees. She was detained in 2018 for alleged links to a drone attack against President Nicolás Maduro. She reported torture and inhumane treatment while in custody. According to the report and a compilation of similar cases, she forcefully disappeared for a few weeks after her detention, and her pregnancy was terminated without her knowledge or consent. After being subjected to torture, she was transferred to a medical facility in July 2023 and now requires a wheelchair. Amnesty International shared her story and advocated for her immediate release in an urgent action announcement.

TOPSHOT-VENEZUELA-CRISIS-OPPOSITION-PROTEST
Image 2: A Venezuelan opposition demonstrator waves a flag at the riot police in a clash during a protest against President Nicolas Maduro, in Caracas on May 8, 2017. Source: Yahoo Images (Federico Parra /AFP/Getty Images)

 

Fear as a weapon: how arbitrary detentions terrorize Venezuelan communities

One common tactic utilized by authorities during these years is the so-called “Nights of Terror,” when officials raid and attack residential areas. Forty-seven of these were reported between April and July 2017. According to the recollection of witnesses, the incidents follow a pattern:

First, the officials (from the GNS, the CONAS, or even the SEBIN) burst into homes, breaking down front gates and security doors. They would fire indiscriminately into the houses using riot control equipment and weapons (tear gas and pellet guns). Even after the residents asked to see the search warrants, the officials continued the search without showing them. In private homes, officials shot off locks, broke down gates, destroyed property, and threatened the residents. They demanded to know the whereabouts of people who participated in protests. The raids are frequent and repeated, characterized by searches without a warrant.

Many children have been affected, as those who witnessed home raids are now scared of the National Guard officers. Not only do victims feel vulnerable as institutions collapse into corruption and impunity, but they also feel more terrified and angry than protected.

During the Covid-19 pandemic: 2020-2023

Arbitrary detentions continue amid the COVID-19 pandemic, during which NGOs documented how the state of emergency—decreed by the president—was used to crack down on dissent. The decree not only requires face masks and limits movement and certain activities, as stated by Human Rights Watch, but it also authorizes inspections at the discretion of security forces if there is reasonable suspicion that someone is violating the decree. Among the affected are human rights lawyers, journalists, and public service officials.

Journalists such as Marco Antoima or human rights lawyers like Ivan Varguez have been charged with inciting hatred and criminal activities, rebellion, or unlawful association.

International Response and What’s Next? 

Actors in the international system have taken steps to put pressure on the Maduro administration.  The United States has imposed a number of sanctions dating back to 2015. These sanctions account mostly for blocking property and assets. The European Union, on its part, approved an embargo on arms and materials in 2017 to countries that may use it for repression. In addition, between 2018 and 2021, about 30 officials were sanctioned, freezing their assets and prohibiting them from entering nations of the E.U.

The journey to justice may be frail, and the fight is far from over. You can help by supporting organizations like the ones mentioned here, sharing detainee stories, and demanding more international actions. Some ways available to support this organization include legal consultation, logistics, physical therapies, psychological therapies, transportation, medical treatments, or other services. Registration on their website is required. On the other hand, Observatorio Venezolano de Conflictividad Social has a submission box on its website for requests to contact the support staff. You can help by supporting organizations like the ones mentioned here, sharing detainee stories, and demanding more international actions.

More detailed stories are available in Foro Penal’s report on “Crackdown on Dissent, Brutality, Torture and Political Persecution in Venezuela.”

 

Behind the Ballot: Corruption, Repression, and Hope in the 2024 Venezuelan Elections

This year, a handful of elections were scheduled. At least 27 countries, including Algeria, Senegal, Pakistan, and Venezuela, held their presidential elections. Because of the varying political climates, let’s visit the most recent Venezuelan elections, which illustrate human rights violations in the form of voter intimidation and political persecution. The development of the events raises questions about the validity of the results and the corruption of the powers of the state. Amid widespread despair, NGOs like Foro Penal, a Venezuelan group offering legal aid to victims of state repression, and international bodies such as Human Rights Watch and the Carter Center are investigating irregularities and violations.

Challenges to Maduro’s Presidency and Popularity

Facing crippling inflation, electricity blackouts, and water and food scarcity, the Venezuelan people had been waiting for a leadership change. Although still appealing to the love people had for former president Hugo Chavez, President Maduro Moros had been increasingly losing popular support.

At the beginning of his term, Chavez gained public trust through social programs addressing inequality, such as adult literacy, health care, and infrastructure. The programs were meant to address the gap between the rich and the poor, a hot issue among voters. His “revolution“ of the old system set up by the administration of Carlos Perez Jimenez was mildly disrupted by a Human Rights Watch report exposing corruption. Nevertheless, his charisma and the benefits he provided kept his supporters loyal.

In 2013, Chavez appointed Maduro as his successor. Disguised as a blessing, Maduro had inherited institutions that were corrupted and allowed him to enrich himself and stay in power. However, years of inflation and poverty eroded Maduro’s connection to the Chavez revolution. As a result, many pro-Chavez supporters have lost confidence in Maduro and continue to mourn the late president, as AP reported.

While his popularity decreased, a new leader had been working to gain the people’s support. Maria Corina Machado, a former member of the national assembly, won a primary election in 2023. Appealing to free the country and grabbing onto the growing dislike for Maduro, Machado became the face of the Democratic Unitary Platform (DUP), an alliance of trade unions, political parties, and former officials.

However, in January 2024, the highest court in Venezuela banned opposition leader Machado from running for the presidency. The ban keeps Machado from participating in any elections for 15 years. The Supreme Court made the decision based on financial irregularities claimed to have happened while Machado served in the legislature. This obstacle is among many presented to political figures who pose a threat to Maduro’s regime. After failing to appoint a replacement for a while, a new candidate was put in the front of the opposition campaign. Edmundo Gonzalez, a former diplomat, became the new candidate of the DUP.

Months Leading to Election Day

Venezuelans outside the country went out to register, uncertain of what turn the elections would take; however, they encountered significant obstacles.

The New York Times reports that Venezuelans living abroad were affected by long waiting times, rejection, and confusing instructions across several countries, including Argentina, Chile, Colombia, and Spain. People arrived at consulates as early as 4 a.m., only to face rejection due to suspended registrations.

In addition to the unexplained delays, voters were met with unexpected registration requirements. Before, only a Venezuelan identification, expired or not, was valid for registration. However, as part of the new requirements being enforced, a Venezuelan passport and proof of residency or legal permanence in the host country were needed. This created obstacles, as many Venezuelans in countries like Colombia or the U.S. lack permanent residency despite having other legal documents, such as Temporary Protected Status (TPS).

National filling out an applications with his passport
Image 1: National filling out a form with his passport at hand. Source: Yahoo Images

What’s more, the government only allowed a 29-day registration period, which differs greatly from the year-round period allowed in the past. However, in countries where diplomatic relations are broken, and embassies and consulates are closed (like the U.S.) Venezuelans can’t register to vote.

As a result of these events, millions of Venezuelans couldn’t vote. Between 3.5 million and 5.5 million Venezuelans who live abroad were eligible to vote, but only about 69,000 were registered.

Election Day – July 28th, 2024

Venezuelans inside the country went to cast their votes at their designated stations. Throughout the morning, locals and the Carter Center mission—sent on June 29th—observed several violations.

Violence and Voter Intimidation

According to electoral rules, a witness is allowed to observe the tally count. People loyal to the ruling party intimidated witnesses and forced them to stay at home or leave their posts halfway through the election.

New York Times (NYT) reported that, in the capital, Caracas, a journalist observed men blocking access to one of the voting centers. Adding to the tension, voters were not allowed entry until over an hour after the poll was supposed to open. Similarly, in the city of Cumaná, about 50 armed police and National Guard officers stood outside with their helmets and armor in what seemed to be a show of power. Over in the city of Maturín, a woman was shot when men on motorcycles drove by a line of voters.

Changing Voting Locations

The NYT also disclosed that constituents’ voting locations were changed without a previous announcement. A worker of the Venezuelan Electoral Observatory, Carlos Medina, stated that the voting stations for 17,000 Venezuelans changed at the last minute. This is the case for Sonia Gomez, a voter who went to vote after verifying her polling site on the electoral council website. However, upon arrival, the workers told her she was registered elsewhere.

National casting their paper vote. Source: Yahoo Images
Image 2: National casting their paper vote. Source: Yahoo Images

Aftermath

Refusal to Disclose Paper Tallies

In Venezuela, votes are counted digitally by the Consejo Nacional Electoral (National Electoral Council) or CNE and verified using paper tallies collected at each voting station. Some officials in certain locations refused to disclose their paper tallies.

With the digital count, Maduro’s administration celebrated their victory, claiming 51% of votes. On the other hand, the opposition released data showing that Edmundo Gonzalez had received 67% of the vote. According to Machado, the opposition’s numbers came from voting machine tallies that were scanned and calculated.

In response to the allegations made by the opposition on corrupt and ridged elections, Maduro requested the Supreme Court give its expert opinion on the results. It is important to mention that the Supreme Court, closely tied to Maduro’s administration, had previously upheld Machado’s ban. Although the court backed him up, Maduro promised to release the tallies on the CNE website. However, the website has remained inaccessible since the events of July 28th.

Politically Driven Detentions

After the CNE announced Maduro’s victory, Venezuelan protested in the streets. However, they were met with brutal repression by state authorities. Videos circulating on social media showed police and military brutality directed at protesters. Human Rights Watch analyzed these videos, corroborating reports of detentions and deaths. While about 2,400 people were detained during protests, Foro Penal—a Venezuelan NGO that provides legal support for victims of arbitrary detention—claims that the police arrested electoral witnesses at their homes. These events have fueled arguments for election fraud. Most of the detainees are being charged with terrorism and incitement of hatred. Other irregularities include a lack of legal assistance and transfer to maximum security prisons.

Adding to the political persecution, a court issued an arrest warrant against Edmundo Gonzalez for conspiracy and usurping power. This prompted him to flee to Spain. Similarly, other figures, like diplomats, have been targeted, too, as Maduro ordered diplomats who opposed his victory to leave the country.

Protests in Venezuela on May 1st, 2019. Source: Wikimedia Commons archive; originally published by Voice of America.
Image 3: Protests in Venezuela on May 1st, 2019. Source: Wikimedia Commons archive; originally published by Voice of America.

Future Implications

After the return of the Carter Center’s technical election observation mission, the center stated that the elections did not meet the integrity standards. The Organization of American States and several countries, including Argentina and Costa Rica, recognized Edmundo Gonzalez as the president-elect and called for transparency. Nevertheless, as Gonzalez has now fled to Spain, it is unclear what the next steps the international community will take to address the democratic crisis.

Since the elections, Venezuelans have felt both hope and fear. Despite a great number of protests and social media posts, fear of government retaliation has reached a higher level than ever. Some believe it is impossible for Maduro to resign, but only time will tell if democracy can still be restored.

Buscadoras: Women Searching for the Disappeared in Latin America’s Enforced Disappearance

After 3 years of searching, Yanette Bautista finally reunited with her disappeared sister. In the outskirts of Bogota, Colombia, buried under NN (No Name), using the same dress and jacket she was last seen wearing, the body of Nydia Erika Bautista was found. After a witness from the Colombian military confessed and tipped off the location of the body, Yanette, her lawyer, and a forensics expert were able to dig up Nydia’s remains. 

The Bautistas are one of the many direct and indirect victims of enforced disappearances in Latin America. To this day, thousands of people continue to be missing, and their loved ones continue their search, hoping to one day end their anguish and bring justice. 

people wearing masks that say "Where are they?"
Image 1: People wearing masks that say, “Where are they?” Source: Yahoo Images.

 

[Image 2] The Search Commision and the organization "Buscando Hasta Encontrarte" (Searching until I Found You) signed a covenant to strenghten searches. Source: Yahoo Images.
Image 2: The Search Commission and the “Searching Until I Found You” organization signed a covenant to strengthen search efforts. Source: Yahoo Images.

Enforced disappearances overview 

Enforced disappearances are the arrest or abduction by state authorities or political organizations. In these cases, perpetrators deny any involvement or refuse to reveal the victims’ location with the intend of keeping them out of the protection of the law. Enforced disappearances violate fundamental rights, including personal liberty, protection from torture, and access to a fair trial. The International Convention for the Protection of All Persons from Enforced Disappearances was established in response to these grave violations. This convention is upheld by the Committee on Enforced Disappearances (CED) and the Working Group on Enforced Disappearances (WGEID), whose roles are to: 

  • Ensure state compliance,
  • carry out investigations to locate victims and hold perpetrators accountable, and
  • provide reparations and support to affected families.

Enforced disappearances are widely spread in the Americas, linked to the proliferation of violent nonstate actors —gangs, cartels, armed groups—and serving as tools of state control. These disappearances have waves of repercussions, from the fear experienced by the victims to the sadness and uncertainty of their loved ones. Often testing the competency and efficiency of authorities, these disappearances force families to undertake searches when official investigations fail. Most victims of enforced disappearances are men, leading women and children to become the providers or breadwinners. The families, then, have great financial burdens and are more vulnerable to abduction due to their relations with disappeared family members, their role as witnesses and human rights activists, and their “defiance” of societal rules. 

The work of women searchers 

Despite having a target on their backs, women lead the search efforts for their loved ones, forming groups dedicated to collaboratively searching. They unite forces and resources to bring justice to their families. In the past, women-led collectives have done great work for the disappeared. Grandmothers of Plaza de Mayo in Argentina and Chilean women of Calama are examples. These collectives deal with the disappearances that occurred during dictatorships or government regimes and the relocation of family members.

Nowadays, social media plays a crucial role in search efforts for missing persons. In Guanajuato, Mexico, the group Hasta Encontrarte (Until I Found You) uses its Facebook page to share information about missing individuals and mobilize support for their recovery. Beyond social media, organizations like The Nydia Erika Bautista Foundation, created by Yanette Bautista, provide legal support to families. This foundation documents the stories of the disappeared and offers leadership training through schools across Colombia to empower families and advocates.  

[Image 3] The Nydia Erika Foundation. Source: Yahoo images.
Image 3: The Nydia Erika Bautista Foundation. Source: Yahoo images.

How are women searchers affected? 

Although collectives have the urgency and willingness, they face the financial burden of searching. Transportation, gas, food, water, lodging accommodations, tents, and coal may be required depending on location. Luckily, they collect money by organizing raffles and sales while receiving company donations. However, some governments, like the Mexican administration, have recently passed legislation that makes registration of collectives stricter and the reception of donations more difficult. 

What’s more, families may also be vulnerable to scams. American Spanish-language news outlet Univision News reported that activists in Mexico denounced groups that charge $29 to $147 per week (500-3,000 Mexican pesos). They take advantage of how desperate the families are to create a business. Unfortunately, families may find these scamming groups before they come across better-established collectives without fees. Being scammed amid the despair of a disappearance further affects the families’ finances and their mental health. 

Besides the financial aspect, women searchers face other obstacles. Amnesty International research reveals that the state and non-state actors can utilize their influence over the criminal system to open arbitrary and sometimes illegal criminal investigations against them. They may also stop the police from investigating accordingly. What’s more, societal stereotypes often blame mothers for “not keeping their children safe” or “not doing their job as mothers.” Comments like this spread guilt among mothers looking for their children. Women searchers, like human rights activists, are subject to threats and attacks, particularly in Honduras, Mexico, Colombia, and Brazil. They are vulnerable to gender-based violence, especially the sexual kind. 

In Mexico, Teresa Magueyal, a member of the group Una Promesa Por Cumplir (A Promise to Fulfill), was searching for her son, José, who disappeared in 2020. Teresa was killed three years later in the same town. Two months later, Catalina Vargas, another activist member of the Collective United for the Disappeared in Leon, also disappeared. In August of 2022, activist Rosario Rodriguez was kidnapped by an armed group after a mass in honor of her disappeared son. Her youngest son called the authorities right away, but nothing was done. She was found dead a day later.   

For more stories, check out the story of the Barajas Piña family, or listen to the “Hasta Encontrarte | Until I Found You” podcast on Spotify and Apple Music. 

[Image 4] Protests against the high women homicide rates in Mexico. Source: Yahoo Images.
Image 4: A protest against the high women’s homicide rates in Mexico. Source: Yahoo Images.

The future of women searchers 

While much progress remains to be made, important steps are underway to promote women’s safety in search efforts. The National Human Rights Commission has urged states to protect searchers, recognizing them as human rights defenders. In early 2024, Colombia passed the Proyecto de Ley (Project of Law), which aims to guard the rights of women searchers, acknowledging them as peacebuilders and individuals requiring special protection. Additionally, Amnesty International recently launched its #SearchingWithoutFear campaign to establish searching as a right that the state must protect. These initiatives highlight the vital contributions of women searchers and open the doors to developing stronger legal frameworks to ensure their safety. Continued community support and collaboration between governments and organizations are essential for reaching and supporting victims across national and international boundaries.