Tag: Latin America

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.

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.

 

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. 

Constitutional Changes in Chile

The streets of Santiago were filled with the sounds of horns on September 4th. The vote for a new constitution had finally taken place, after three years of sustained protests, and four decades after the dictator Pinochet first replaced the constitution. The people had spoken, and the social contract between the state and the citizens was transformed.

Calls for a new constitution fueled by social movements

Fig. 1: Source: Yahoo Images; Nearly one million protesters during estadillo social. An aerial view of Plaza Italia and streets filled with hundreds of people, one large Chilean flag held over the heads of some.

On October 18th, 2019, thousands of protesters flooded the streets of the capital city, Santiago, Chile. Originally, protests began over frustrations with a rise in the price of metro tickets but quickly compounded with inequality in the state. According to a Foreign Policy article on Chile’s constitutional overhaul, the massive protests were led by students, workers, farmers, indigenous peoples, and left-leaning progressives. They expressed frustrations over a lack of socioeconomic mobility, unresponsive government and institutions, and a disconnected political class. In some instances, these demonstrations included torching metro stations and tearing down statues of Spanish colonizers. To read more in-depth on the protests, read this blog.

While these protests paralyzed the capital and country for weeks, the protests demanding change resonated outside the urban center and spread across the nation. In central Santiago, Plaza Baquedano has been the place of social protest for decades, and three years on, protesters continue to use this symbolic place to voice dissent on social inequalities.

Fig. 2: Source: Yahoo Images, John Treat; Protesters in Plaza Baquedano demanding a new constitution, December 2019. A crowd of people holding aloft indigenous flags, Chilean flags, and signs.

Known as the Estallido Social, or social explosion, the protests signaled a major development in the attitudes of citizens in the state. Protests eventually culminated in a 12-point agreement for social peace and a new constitution. In the eyes of many protesters, numerous contemporary problems traced back to the constitution ratified in 1980 under the military dictatorship of General Augusto Pinochet.

The citizens of Chile have expressed the need for a new constitution in order to value citizen participation. The constitution written under Pinochet leans toward a conservative interpretation and does not include any formal avenues for citizens to participate. While the Magna Carta has been changed in minimal ways since a return to democracy in 1990, the opposition claim that the constitution should be considered illegitimate since it was instituted under a dictator.

Constitutional change under dictatorial rule

On the 11th of September 1973, democratically elected socialist President Salvador Allende was overthrown by a military coup. He was given an ultimatum — to resign from his position or be detained by the Chilean armed forces.

To better understand this consequential moment, we need to understand the context of economic and political factors that had Chile on the brink of a civil war. A few times during his presidency between 1970 and 1973, Allende had made reference to President Balmaceda (1886-91), a previous executive whose conflict with the legislature led to a civil war. Allende refused to become “another Balmaceda” but also claimed he would not be forced from office alive.

In 1971, Allende began nationalizing companies, mainly copper and telephone, both previously owned by foreign US corporations. As a result, Chile stopped receiving aid from the US, and subsequently, the World Bank, the Export-Import Bank, and the Inter-American Development Bank ceased aid as well. By 1973, inflation, labor strikes, and food shortages were uncontrollable as imports had risen while exports plummeted in the face of plummeting copper prices. Soon after, General Pinochet Ugarte, chief of the armed forces, became the dictator of Chile in a violent coup that resulted in Allende’s death.

The constitution was formally rewritten in 1980 to solidify Pinochet’s regime politically and economically. In the new constitution, Pinochet protected private property to such an extent that Chile became the only country in the world to privatize water. Moreover, the constitution concentrated power in the president, from budgetary decisions to law-making. As a result, the executive in Chile remains among the world’s most powerful governing executives.

In the next two decades, thousands of people would be tortured, executed, or forcibly disappeared under General Pinochet’s repressive authoritarian rule. According to Amnesty International, the number of officially recognized disappeared or killed is 3,000 people between 1973 and 1990 and the survivors of political imprisonment and torture is around 40,000 people. After Chile returned to democracy, Pinochet was charged under universal jurisdiction for crimes against humanity.

The writing of a new constitution

After protests continued and swelled to 1 million people, the government decided in mid-November 2019 that a large concession needed to be made. A referendum was set with two questions: Should Chile replace the 1980 constitution, and if so, who should write it?

In October 2020, 78 percent of the voting population favored a new constitution, with the highest participation since the end of mandatory voting in 2012. Moreover, citizens overwhelmingly supported the new drafting by everyday citizens.

Fig. 3: Source: Yahoo Images; Elisa Loncon. A woman wearing indigenous Mapuche clothing waving.

Elisa Loncon, a member of the Mapuche indigenous group, was selected as the president of the constitutional assembly. From the Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights, the constitutional process in Chile is the first to include an equal portion of women and men, and also includes the indigenous groups historically discriminated against.

“For the first time in our history, Chileans from all walks of life and from all political factions are participating in a democratic dialogue,” Loncon said.

Not only had the social protests begun a sweeping institutional change in the country focused on the economic and political rights of people, but this moment also signaled a significant expression of self-determination.

The process has received help from the UN Human Rights Regional Office for South America which has provided accessible documents, webinars, and publications on the international framework for human rights.

The resulting constitution embodies the standards of human rights law, with rights focused on indigenous people, women, LGBTQ+ people, people with disabilities, and the environment. Also, the new constitution ensures adequate housing, the establishment of a national healthcare system, employment benefits, and mandatory gender parity in the private and public sectors. This new charter represents a sweeping array of human rights, from civil and political to economic, social, and cultural.

Valentina Contreras, the Chilean representative of the Global Initiative for Social, Economic, and Cultural Rights, said “Human rights are the common thread of the constitutional process.”

Rejection and steps forward

The vote for the new constitution was this September 4th, 2022. After two years of drafting the new constitution, 62 percent of Chileans voted against the new Magna Carta and only 38 percent for it.

The National Public Radio reported on the results of the plebiscite. While most states normally rewrite their constitutions during or shortly after the democratic transition, Chile remains an outlier. Additionally, most new constitutions are short, but in this case, the proposed Magna Carta was 388 articles long and considered “confusing” according to Claudio Fuentes, a Santiago political analyst.

This aided a large disinformation campaign launched by more conservative and centrist citizens, claiming the proposed constitution would disarm the police and confiscate people’s private homes. Still, other citizens saw the draft as a product of anger and tension, identifying the new text strongly with the violent protests that had originally spurred its creation.

This represents a loss not only for the constitutional assembly but a commitment to a broad range of human rights. However, as Gabriel Boric, the current president of Chile stated, “You have to listen to the voice of the people.” Extensive social protests first began the move to redefine the social contract between citizens and government, and now democratic procedures have determined the continuance of this process.

This process is not over, Chileans are still waiting on a new constitution. Centrist-left and right-wing politicians have expressed interest in working with the government on the next draft.

Ultimately, while Chileans voted against the proposed constitution, this remains a poignant moment for human rights. Firstly, the level of dialogue on such topics from people of varied backgrounds and historically discriminated groups remains unprecedented in Chile and illustrates the unfettered self-determination of a people. From people organizing and demonstrating their rights to cooperation between radically different political parties, the constitutional assembly remained committed to a document based on human rights.

Students have once again begun protesting at metro stations in response to the rejection. This dialogue will not stop with the constitutional committee, instead, it has and continues to be embodied by the protesters who sparked the original rewrite.

The Impact of Machismo on Women

by April Alvarez (student guest blogger)

The country of Nicaragua is rich in agriculture yet still suffers when it comes to the meeting the basic needs of the Nicaraguan people. However, women are the most severely affected by this as they are the primary bread winners of their homes, yet they do not have access to the same job opportunities that men do, and they are also fighting for their healthcare rights. The structure and dynamic of families vary from culture to culture–in Latin cultures, for instance, men have been taught to be the head of the household, provide, protect, and lay a solid foundation for the family, and the role of women usually consists of tending to the responsibilities of the home and caring for the children. Most of these roles are shaped by the behavior and values of the family as well as by society, which persuades or enforces the presence of certain behaviors and norms. Men are portrayed as dominate figures while the women are docile. Men take pride in their dominate role to an extent that may not be frequently seen in other cultures. This heavy presence of men dominating women is known as the machismo culture, and it has inevitably affected the way that women are portrayed in society and has negatively impacted their access to healthcare.

Photo of Nicaraguan mother and daughters fishing with net in river
Source: The author

Machismo is learned through social interactions and is instilled in boys from the moment of birth through adulthood. “Boys quickly learn that they are not supposed to cry, that they have far greater freedom than their sisters and that adaptation, submissiveness and responsibility for children and domestic work are for girls” (Berglund, Liljestrand, Marín, Salgado, & Zelaya, 2000). Boys are taught that crying is a sign of weakness and that deprives them of the ability to express all their emotions and by developing a nature of pride and coldness, they are forced to swallow emotional burdens rather than voice them. Consequently, this process affects how they treat and view the women in their lives. Women, therefore, never escape the cycle of being viewed as docile creatures who’s only value comes from how well they can perform household chores and care for children.

Because the unemployment and poverty rate are so high in Nicaragua, women are often taught that they need to depend on a man for economic support. However, the high pregnancy rate is also a consequence from the lack of sexual education in schools and in homes by parents. The country is heavily influenced by Christianity, which emphasizes the importance of purity before marriage; however, many homes fail to educate or emphasize the role that men play in this as well. The nature of machismo emphasizes or rewards men who are womanizers, which inevitably leads to amounted responsibility if they get a woman pregnant. It is common for men to have a wife and children but also have a few girlfriends that they see from time to time to “destress” from their home or work life. While the man can go out and have fun with other women and have unlimited liberties, if a woman is even suspected as being unfaithful her husband may beat her. While an outsider may easily suggest that the women in the relationship should leave if they find themselves under these circumstances, it is not that easy, especially when the man is considered the family’s stability and support. However, other family members have a heavy influence on why a woman stays with her husband. Adriana, a young lady in her twenties who participated in a study about adolescent pregnancies in Nicaragua said that “they teach us that you have to endure, to suffer, because that is our obligation. Maybe it’s because their mothers treated them like that…. Consequently, they teach us to be only mothers and housewives” (Berglund, Liljestrand, Marín, Salgado, & Zelaya, 2000). This tradition is so deeply rooted in the culture that it has ingrained the idea that a women’s value is lost if they leave their husbands. Their first husband shall be their last and if they leave, no one else will love them. Women often question every decision they make for this same reason and if they are abused by their husbands then they have been psychologically conditioned to think they are the ones to blame.

Photo of Nicaraguan women and child holding up woven baskets
Source: The author

One of the characteristics of machismo is respect and to challenge a decision made by one’s husband, who is seen as a superior, is like challenging their masculinity and it is a symbol of disrespect too. Men submerged in the machismo culture are also evaluated as a man based on their ability to have children therefore, more is better. Men have been able to justify this view is by finding ways to manipulate women so that they maintain their power. A study conducted in the cities of Managua and Leon evaluated how men viewed reproductive health and their responses to participating in gender training programs. One of the men stated that “He aims to help other young people avoid the negative consequences of unsafe sexual behavior, such as unintended pregnancies, sexually transmitted diseases, and HIV” (Torres, Goicolea, Edin & Öhman, 2012). This is an important finding as it successfully communicated how the behaviors of men were affecting not only the women but also their own health. The men take immense pride in having intercourse with women without using protection because it was another way of asserting their dominance. However, many were not aware of how those habits were exposing them to health dangers.

Despite the raise in awareness, men in Nicaragua still fail to break the cycle of violence and take any real initiative. In fact, in many areas the problem has worsened which affects women and children living in the home as they become exposed to situations that they begin to perceive as normal. “The fact that children are so often witnesses to violence against their mothers is of particular concern, not only because it exposes them to the risk of abuse themselves but also, in the case of boys, to the risk of becoming battering husbands as adults” (Ellsberg, Peña, Herrera, Liljestrand & Winkvist, 2000). The violence that women and even children are exposed to has more than physical consequences, it can also lead to a higher risk of illness further along in their lives. There is only so much stress that the body can take without releasing it, therefore, the body can become ill from all the intensity and constant fight for survival. The main reason men may have not been compelled to change their behavior is due to their social circles, especially other men. Most men have the “fear of rejection and discrimination” because of the “peer and family pressure to conform to traditional norms and values” (Torres, Goicolea, Edin & Öhman, 2012). Without the support of the people closest to them, they are less likely to step out of their comfort zone. They would also have to battle with being perceived as crazy because advocating for women’s rights is wrong or does not matter. No one likes to be rejected, especially if your masculinity is in question. A male who begins to speak out against domestic violence and the cultural norms would be deemed unworthy of respect because they have become soft and weak.

Women’s centers known as Casas de Mujer in Nicaragua have been successful in holding men to a high behavioral standard by equipping women with the knowledge of their rights by laws of the countries. Overall, the houses have provided a safe space for women where they can feel reassured, unashamed, or guilty, and be educated on their legal options, as well as on their value as a human being. The houses also help women unravel how machismo has affected their lives, make self-defense available, and teach women how they can play a role in breaking machismo norms with their sons. However, while there are great NGOs that have parted the way for women, the few that are present may struggle to remain open due to funding and support. Women around the country still battle with violence in their homes, especially in rural areas. The country must provide women with equality in the work force so that they do not have to be dependent on males, and so that they have access to healthcare. The women should also be allowed to follow their dreams, aspirations, and seek a life worthy of respect and dignity without being forced to confide to a life that is hidden in the dark. There is still an abundance of work to be done.