The tragedy unfolded on December 3, 2023. Phanor
Guazaquillo was leaving a cemetery in the remote town of Puerto Asis,
southeastern Colombia, when a man got off a motorcycle, opened fire, killing
him in front of his wife, and sped off. “Everyone knew he was threatened,” says
his son Breiner, 27, with a chill in his voice.
Phanor had spent months fighting against land
seizures by the Comandos de la Frontera, a dissident faction of the
Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia (FARC) controlling cocaine trafficking
near the Ecuadorian border. As a Nasa Indigenous leader widely respected in
Putumayo, Phanor also opposed oil exploitation projects that have been
poisoning this remote area neglected by the central government.
Now a community leader in Putumayo, Breiner
shares the threats his family faced after his father’s death: “For four months,
we received threats to stop us from continuing his fight.” Today, a
state-provided armed guard accompanies the 27-year-old in all his movements.
Colombia: The deadliest country for activists
Phanor Guazaquillo’s death tragically underscores
the peril faced by Colombia’s environmental defenders. Last year, 79 were
killed, accounting for 40% of all environmental leaders murdered globally,
according to the NGO Global Witness, again making Colombia the deadliest place
for these activists.
Signs of improvement are emerging slowly. Between
January and August this year, 20 environmental defenders were killed in
Colombia, 34 fewer than last year over the same period. Could this be an effect
of President Petro’s “Total Peace” policy? “The tension has lessened since the
armed group began negotiating with the government,” Breiner observes.
Yet these grim statistics cast a shadow over
COP16 in Cali, which is just hours from Cauca—a region plagued by conflicts
between FARC dissidents, Clan del Golfo paramilitaries, and military forces.
Since 2018, 114 environmental leaders have been killed in Cauca alone,
according to the Foundation for Peace and Reconciliation report presented on
October 23. Tensions even spiked a week before the conference when the Central
General Staff (EMC), the most powerful dissident faction of the FARC, urged
delegations “not to attend the event.”
Despite these veiled threats, environmental
defenders remain determined to make their voices heard. In the shaded paths of
the “Green Zone,” a specially designated area at the conference’s heart, the
Nasa Indigenous Guard, with their traditional chontas—sticks adorned with red
and green banners representing peaceful territorial defense—walked through,
engaging curious onlookers about their conflicts with armed groups and
multinational mining and forestry companies.
A long-delayed protection treaty
Local defenders at COP16 are hopeful that the
conference will push for the implementation of the Escazu Agreement. Signed in
Costa Rica in February 2018, this regional treaty commits its 24 signatories to
adopt national measures to protect environmental activists. Yet only 14 of
these 24 countries have ratified it, leaving a gap in meaningful action.
In Colombia, the Constitutional Court only
approved the law enacting Escazu into national legislation two months ago.
“Escazu provides a good framework, but it’s far too early to assess its
impact,” says Francisco Daza of the Foundation for Peace and Reconciliation. He
hopes the COP will emphasize monitoring its implementation and pressuring
regional governments.
Impunity and community distrust
While COP16 serves as a significant platform, it
struggles to produce concrete measures to protect environmental defenders. In
Colombia, a weak justice system undercuts promises of protection for activists.
“The justice system lacks resources, staff, and
expertise to investigate when a leader is threatened or murdered,” laments
Vanessa Vasco of the Corporation for Justice and Freedom, which provides legal
assistance to environmental leaders and their communities, particularly in
Antioquia, a region riddled with paramilitary influence and extractivist
projects. Since 2018, only two cases involving the assassination of
environmental defenders have resulted in convictions.
“This impunity fuels community distrust, and
sometimes they won’t even file complaints,” adds Francisco Daza. In Cali’s
Green Zone, activists are disturbed by the presence of mining companies like
the Canadian Libero Copper, undermining the event’s credibility in their eyes.
Sirley Duarte, an environmental leader from
Putumayo, expresses her indignation: “How can I feel safe when the same
companies poisoning our lands have a booth here?”