‘They can’t silence us’: the female lawyers defending Colombia’s environment | Environmental activism

JUlia Figueroa never leaves her home unsecured. She travels with two bodyguards and an armored vehicle. Your home and office are monitored around the clock. It carefully monitors any device that may contain compromising information about its customers.

As a director of the Luis Carlos Pérez Lawyers Collective Corporation (CCALCP) and one of its founders, threats to your life are commonplace. The all-female group of lawyers legally represents smallholders and indigenous communities affected by the armed conflict in Colombia. Their work includes defending displaced persons and victims of state crime, but also defending environmental rights, including combating mining companies that seek to extract resources, often at the expense of local water supplies and the surrounding environment.

In a country considered the deadliest in the world for human rights defenders, the team faces enormous risks, including threats, false accusations of criminal activity and links with illegal armed groups.

The CCALCP has its roots in Bucaramanga’s only public university, the Industrial University of Santander, where a group of law students who graduated in 2001 came together to address the conflict and displacement in their province, Figueroa says. Santander in northeast Colombia has a rich indigenous cultural heritage as well as untapped coal and oil reserves.

The collective of female lawyers at a video conference in Bucaramanga, with Julia Figueroa on the screen. Photo: Nadege Mazars / The Guardian

A collective of human rights lawyers was a novelty in the area at the time, and the group was struggling for money and attention. The Farc (Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia) were at the height of their power and paramilitary forces were widespread. The group initially consisted of men and women, but over time the male members gradually fell apart.

Defending water is a violation of multi-million dollar contracts between the state and companies Julia Figueroa, lawyer

“The outside world began to notice something that we neither had the time nor the means to see,” says Figueroa. “If you’ve put your life and family at risk, don’t start these nuanced analyzes – you just prioritize your life.”

More women joined them, including Marisol Figueroa, Julia’s sister, who gave up her company job in 2011 to join the collective. As the government withdrew its government-sponsored security for reasons unknown, it is careful to spend as much time as possible with her family, as “you don’t know when you’re going to leave this world”.

Marisol Figueroa in her office. Your computer shows an image of the Santurbán páramo, a frosty, high-altitude wetland ecosystem threatened by mining. Photo: Nadege Mazars / The Guardian

Although she has left a relatively quiet life behind, the all-female environment in the office was a welcome change from her previous workplaces, where machismo and sexual harassment were the order of the day, according to Marisol. “I think each of us is born to contribute a grain of sand,” she says. “And I think you can do it in many ways. One of these ways for me was to get to know the world of human rights. “

As the team expanded into the surrounding Magdalena Medio region, it successfully defended displaced families from landowners, protected indigenous groups from oil companies, and protected valuable ecosystems from mining.

A notable case in the group’s files is that of Santurbán páramo. The Páramo – a frosty, high-altitude wetland ecosystem – is enormously biodiverse and provides almost 2 million people with water, but is threatened by multinational mining companies that are keeping an eye on its natural resources.

Since 1994, the Canadian mining company Eco Oro Minerals has been trying to exploit the gold and silver resources in the area and has been granted a concession in the Páramo. In 2016, however, the CCALCP obtained a ruling from the country’s highest court declaring the license unconstitutional.

A protest in front of the Canadian embassy in Bogotá calls for the protection of the Colombian páramos from mining. Photo: EFE News Agency / Alamy

But while Colombia’s páramos, key carbon sinks, enjoy special constitutional protection, they remain vulnerable. Shortly after beating Eco Oro, the company sued Colombia in an ongoing dispute and the Páramo remains in danger.

Another high-profile case involved fracking in the municipality of San Martín in the Magdalena Medio region. When Colombia announced its first fracking project in the region in 2015, there was significant backlash. The CCALCP helped initiate the first “popular action” – a legal mechanism to protect collective interests – in a fracking case, and fracking was suspended in 2018.

With the increasing importance of its work, the collective has earned recognition at home and abroad and won prizes and grants. However, maintaining a local connection remains critical.

“We didn’t want to lose this regional identity, we didn’t want to leave the area if we wanted to expand,” says Julia. “Because really one of the strengths of an organization like ours is knowing how it is here – not having to be monitored from Bogotá.”

The team currently consists of 11 women, including four lawyers. “They are a group that is very respected here in our province,” says Hernán Morantes, lawyer with the Committee for the Protection of Water and Santurbán Páramo, who worked with the collective during the 2016 litigation. “And they also have an international vision, they have found national recognition.”

The team’s work in filing reports to the Special Justice for Peace (JEP), a transitional justice system that investigates war crimes in the armed conflict in Colombia, has earned them threats and allegations of being allied with terrorists or inventing victims. Julia says the fact that the current government is critical of the peace accords made matters worse. Often, she says, people would report the collective to the police in order to initiate investigations and further intimidate them – especially in environmental cases.

“When it comes to the environment, protecting water goes against contracts worth millions that were concluded between the state and companies,” says Julia. The government often calls environmentalists an obstacle to economic progress, she adds.

Protesters are calling on the government not to license a gold project in Santurbán Páramo. Photo: Guillermo Legaria / AFP / Getty Images

The job, she says, comes at the expense of privacy, freedom, and personal relationships. She says many women take long time off to relax and then come back. The group provides psychological support and gives members time and space to deal with the stress.

I think each of us comes into this world to contribute a grain of sand to Marisol Figueroa

“They couldn’t silence us. They tried to prosecute us, they attacked us, they scared us, ”she says. “We are all afraid when they threaten us. We are scared of a lot of things, but I think the collective is so hopeful that we will continue if Julia gets through, if they get through before me. “

The names and faces of the members of the collective, with the exception of the executives, are not published. Your office in downtown Bucaramanga is nondescript. There are no signs announcing their presence in the building, just security cameras outside and many more inside. Everyone who enters must turn off their phone for safety reasons.

For security reasons, cell phones are not used in the offices of the collective. Photo: Nadege Mazars / The Guardian

The group has seen tremendous political changes in the country since its inception. In the beginning, her lawyers traveled to “the most distant, impenetrable areas” to document human rights violations that would otherwise never have come to light. Well, Julia says many churches are better equipped to defend themselves.

But there are various challenges – the 2016 peace agreement created a power vacuum that paramilitaries, drug traffickers and other armed groups have to fill, while the current Conservative government is reluctant to implement the agreement. Competition for land has increased deforestation and the pandemic has led to more poverty.

But the team says it draws hope from the fact that a group of women from a small town can reach the top courts and change politics, as well as the ability to be joyful, forgiving, and persistent in the communities they work with .

“We always have to hope. We’re always lucky enough to be positive, purposeful, and say, ‘Hey, things are going to change,’ ”says Marisol. “And we have to fight to be part of this change. To contribute our grain of sand. “

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https://www.theguardian.com/environment/2021/dec/02/courage-colombia-female-human-rights-defenders-aoe