V. Barriers to Assistance and Protection Measures

The most essential protection measure is the effective prosecution of crimes of sexual violence. If the criminal justice system does not work to identify, prosecute, and punish perpetrators of sexual violence, impunity will only ensure that sexual violence escalates and more and more women are abused and re-abused.

Nevertheless, in addition to a robust and rigorous criminal justice response, other measures of assistance and protection should be available to victims of sexual violence. The Colombian government has established important humanitarian assistance measures for displaced families, and has innovative protection measures for victims of gender-based violence and for human rights leaders. These programs offer essential—even lifesaving—support for the displaced, for victims of violence, and for individuals at risk of violence.

However, having gone to great lengths to create these programs, the government must ensure that they are effective and accessible. This section examines several flaws in the implementation of these programs, and how they are falling short in assisting and protecting some of the people they are meant to serve. The flaws examined here include challenges created by the registration system for humanitarian assistance when an abusive husband is the primary registrant, shortcomings of the protection measures envisioned by Law 1257/2008, and challenges women leaders face in the Ministry of Interior protection program.

Humanitarian Assistance for Displaced Persons

Colombia has an extensive network of social assistance programs for internally displaced people.[271] However, the programs do not adequately take into account how intra-familial violence is a barrier to accessing assistance. As one woman’s rights advocate who has worked with hundreds of displaced women in Cartagena explained to Human Rights Watch, “some women are heads of household, but don’t receive any assistance … their husband is listed as the head of household, but if he leaves the household, the aid [leaves] with him. This is a huge problem with intra-familial violence.”[272]

Displaced persons are entitled to immediate and emergency assistance for food, toiletries, kitchen utensils, supplies, medical or psychological care, emergency transportation, and temporary housing. The amount is determined by the size and composition of the household.[273] Displaced persons are then entitled to longer-term economic and social stabilization measures and humanitarian transition assistance.[274] The law also provides entitlements to healthcare and education.

Displaced families that report their displacement to a local office of the Public Ministry (which triggers immediate assistance) put all family members under the name of one primary registrant, which in effect is considered the “head of household.” [275] According to a high-ranking official familiar with the registration process, the person who reports their family’s displacement chooses who is listed as the head of household. [276] While either men or women can be the primary registrant, most women who were not already head of household at the time of displacement told Human Rights Watch that their families had the husbands listed as the main registrant, and the wife and children were “under” his name. The primary registrant controls and manages the family’s access to the benefits. For those who went on to suffer domestic violence, this bureaucratic designation—which was key to their basic livelihood—resulted in believing that had to choose between staying in abusive households with humanitarian assistance or leaving abuse but losing assistance. The Constitutional Court recognized this in Auto 092, stating that when women assume the head of household but are not recognized as such, it can impede their access to assistance. [277]

Dulcea A., a 45-year-old displaced indigenous woman, experienced this dilemma. She, her husband, and three children arrived in Medellín from Chocó in 2002, and registered with authorities in the name of her husband. They received humanitarian and housing assistance for six months.[278] Dulcea said her husband had beaten her “a bit” prior to the displacement, but the abuse became worse after displacement, and then he raped her daughter. She left him, and in so doing, lost housing and other assistance, including food aid.[279] “Now that I have left him, he received the house, and I have the three children,” she told Human Rights Watch. She did not know of any way to transfer the registration to her name, but a women’s rights organization that works with victims has recently helped her file a petition to change the registration. To this day, however, she says that she has no access to humanitarian assistance for the displaced. She struggles to feed and house her children, and survives by making and selling indigenous jewelry. She is teaching her children to do the same.

People like Dulcea can change their registration, including household composition, upon application and anytime, as well as through the renewal and review process that occurs every two years.[280] But victims, officials and NGOs working with victims all said this process is not well known, and can be slow and onerous. It is particularly challenging for those who lack Spanish speaking skills, like Dulcea, or who have limited literacy. A representative of the inspector general’s office in Medellín—which receives victims and can inspect government services, including provision of benefits to the displaced by the Special Administrative Unit for the Integrated Care and Reparation for Victims (Victims’ Unit)—recognized registration procedures as a barrier to benefits for some women: “[A terrible situation] is when [an abusive] husband receives [benefits], the husband is listed as the head of the nuclear family. It was declared this way and it will stay this way if women don’t know their rights. They stay quiet.”[281]

Several women told Human Rights Watch that they did attempt to change their registration with the government after leaving abusive husbands, but that the bureaucratic process was slow, or in some cases the agency never completed the change. Officials from the special victims unit disagree that it is an onerous or lengthy process.[282] One of these officials claims that the process of changing the head of household on the registration should take between a day and a week, depending on geographic location.[283] Lucia M.’s husband beat her after their displacement, and she left him. She says that she filed papers to change the family’s registration with the Department for Social Prosperity through a local unit of care and orientation for the displaced (UAO) but was never notified that the change was effective. Lucia explains,

I went to UAO to change the name. I got a letter that it is all in process. No one at the number on the letter responds to me. I need to be the head of household. It needs to change, but until now, nothing.[284]

Protection Measures under Law 1257/2008

Protection measures for victims of gender-based violence are available under Law 1257/2008. Earlier laws initially established orders for protection specifically for victims of intra-familial violence, [285] but Law 1257/2008 subsequently expanded the protection measures to apply to victims of violence perpetrated by non-family members. [286] Victims can start the process of procuring orders for protection measures through several government offices, including certain municipal officers, family commissioners, courts, or prosecutors. [287]

However, while Colombia’s legal framework for orders for protection is progressive, the system does not always operate effectively.

Human Rights Watch did not speak to any victims who encountered difficulties receiving protection for intra-familial violence under Law 1257/2008. However, government officials and women’s rights advocates say there continue to be obstacles to the law’s effective implementation. For example, one government official told Human Rights Watch that many victims are not instructed to deliver the protection order to the police precinct nearest her residence. [288] Consequently, the official said, the police never receive notice of the protective order and therefore take no steps to protect victims from subsequent violence or threats. [289]

Law 1257/2008 and its subsequent Ministry of Justice regulation also make clear that when a victim files a criminal complaint in a case of intra-familial violence, a prosecutor can seek the protection order from a judge, without involving a family commissioner. However, in some jurisdictions prosecutors continue to send victims to family commissioners to seek protective orders, rather than request an order directly from the judge.[290] When prosecutors do this, it can create a delay in the issuance of the order: up to fifteen days by one calculation.[291]

Because protective measures for victims of violence outside the family sphere are new under Law 1257/2008, their track record is difficult to assess. The government only promulgated regulations for these measures at the end of 2011 and Human Rights Watch was unable to find victims or advocates with examples of protective orders under this mechanism. However, Human Rights Watch spoke with a few women who—since the promulgation of these regulations—said that they pleaded with prosecutors for protection and received none. This left them living in fear.

Isabel P. is married and has two small children. She told Human Rights Watch that after a man with alleged ties to drug traffickers and paramilitaries sexually assaulted her in 2011, she was afraid to report the attack: “If a narco or paramilitary likes a woman, you have to take the abuse,” she told Human Rights Watch.[292] But despite her fears, Isabel says she decided to lodge a formal complaint about the abuse in November 2011 and ask prosecutors for protection. She did not know about the measures under Law 1257/2008, which include referring women and their children to safe places, police protection at a victim’s home and workplace, and any other means necessary to fulfill the objectives of the law. According to Isabel, prosecutors did not help her with any measures such as offering regular police patrols around her house, a cellular phone with direct access to police or investigators, or even assistance in relocation. Instead of providing assistance, Isabel said, “[the prosecutors] told me we had to change houses.”[293] And, with no protection at her work place, Isabel said, “I had to leave my work.”[294] Isabel does not qualify for temporary safe-housing through the government, because her husband is not allowed in the safe houses.

Isabel, her children, and her husband left their home and stayed at friends’ houses, changing homes every few days for four months. In late February 2012, just weeks before speaking with Human Rights Watch, Isabel says she received a call: “You are going to pay,” the caller told her, and then hung up.[295] Fearing it was her attacker, Isabel says that she reported the threat and again asked for protection, but that prosecutors did not offer to help her procure any protection under Law 1257. Isabel told Human Rights Watch that she was beginning to regret ever having reported the attack.[296] 

Maria Claudia M.’s partner raped her 14-year-old daughter in 2011; he was not her daughter’s father. She says that when she caught him, he pushed Maria Claudia against a wall with a machete to her throat and threatened her not to tell anyone. “Do anything, and I will kill you,” he told her.[297]

According to Maria Claudia, he then fled and she immediately took her daughter to report the crime and receive medical treatment. She told Human Rights Watch that her daughter and son were both put in ICBF custody. The ICBF told her it was for treatment, not for protection. Her children were released back to her after a month, and Maria Claudia told Human Rights Watch no further protection measures were provided by any authority. Maria Claudia said that she was afraid for her and her children’s safety: “It gives me fear that he is free. He is an aggressive, dangerous man. He has links to paramilitaries.” [298] Maria Claudia had made her concerns clear to the prosecutor in her daughter’s case, but says that the prosecutor did not inform her of any potential protection measures such as more secure locks for her home, access to government-provided housing for displaced people, a phone with direct access to police, or routine police patrols around her home. Two months after that interview, her partner threatened her and her children again. She still lacked protection.

Magdalena C. had a similar experience. A young mother displaced to Cartagena, she lives in constant fear after a neighbor raped her five-year-old daughter in 2011.[299]  Magdalena moved the family to a different neighborhood, but says that she did not receive any protection from the state. She did not receive any relocation assistance. Instead, her daughter was placed in ICBF protective custody, and the ICBF required Magdalena to have a house with a separate room for her daughter before her daughter could return home. She had to sell off all of her valuables to afford the relocation. The perpetrator remains free, and has followed them to their new neighborhood.[300] Magdalena says that the prosecutor in the case did not inform her of potential protection measures, but that she wants some form of protection. “As the victim, we had to leave [our neighborhood] … And he has found us.... No precautionary measures for either my daughter or me,” said Magdalena.[301]

Protection for Human Rights Defenders

Since 1997, Colombia has had a specialized unit within the Ministry of Interior tasked with protecting human rights defenders, trade unionists, and other at-risk individuals pursuant to Law 418.[302] The program is the most advanced of its kind in the region. After years of problems and concerns by civil society and UN human rights agencies that human rights defenders remained at risk,[303] this protection unit instituted sweeping reforms in 2011.[304] Currently, about 9,000 at-risk individuals receive some form of protection—ranging from cellular phones programmed with direct numbers to local police, to 24-hour bodyguards.[305] Approximately 1,500 participants receive some form of protection via bodyguards.[306] With the reforms, the agency now undertakes needs assessments that consider each potential beneficiary’s profile, taking into account gender, ethnicity, and other factors.[307]

The impetus for creating this protection unit is the serious and pervasive threats—as well as acts of violence—which Colombian human rights defenders, community leaders, and other at-risk individuals face, often from irregular armed groups. Individuals working on women’s rights across the country, and displaced community leaders, are among those targeted. The Inter-American Commission on Human Rights has granted precautionary measures to women human rights defenders in response to incidents of sexual violence, physical assaults, and death threats; however, in 2011, the commission raised concerns that Colombia had hitherto failed to implement these measures. [308] Colombia’s Constitutional Court recognized that displaced women leaders face targeted abuses in Auto 092/2008:

Displaced women who assume leadership in displaced population organizations, workers organizations, human rights promotion, or social and community leadership become exposed to multiple threats, pressure, and risks made by illegal armed groups that many times lead to their murder.” [309]

Auto 092/2008 ordered government authorities to take measures to address this problem and protect displaced women leaders.

However, in 2012, Human Rights Watch documented a range of abuses committed against more than three dozen displaced women leaders living in nine different departments since the Court issued Auto 092/2008.[310] The abuses include threats, rape, forced displacement, and intimidation, and often appear to be directly related to the victims’ leadership activities. Most of the dozens of women’s rights defenders Human Rights Watch interviewed said they had received threatening phone calls, emails, or written death threats delivered to their homes and offices, or had been approached and threatened in person, sometimes by masked and armed thugs. About a half dozen leaders interviewed by Human Rights Watch said they had suffered sexual violence, with the perpetrators saying this was their punishment for working on human rights. Several said they were raped in 2011 or 2012. Displaced women leaders told Human Rights Watch that they had the impression that threats and attacks have escalated since 2008.

A survey of women leaders working on displacement issues conducted by the National Network of Women also found that many suffered threats or attempts against their physical integrity or lives. Sixty-three percent of the women surveyed said that they or a member of their family or community had been a victim of threats against their physical integrity or life; 19 percent had been victims of attempts against their physical integrity or life; and 11 percent were victims of sexual violence.[311] Threats and violence against such leaders directly impact the rights of all displaced women and girls, as they have a chilling effect on their ability to defend women’s human rights.

The Ministry of Interior’s protection unit is currently providing potentially life-saving protection measures to many displaced women leaders. The unit has taken concrete steps to ensure a gender-sensitive approach to protection, going so far as to procure bullet-proof vests that are ergonomic to the female form.[312] The unit also reports that it is hiring more female bodyguards, particularly for women who have been victims of sexual violence.

Nevertheless, there continue to be shortcomings in the unit’s protection measures for displaced women leaders. Some of the leaders with whom Human Rights Watch spoke reported that their protection measures were inadequate compared to their level of risk, or that they did not receive any protection measures at all.[313]

One important concern raised by the leaders is that their close family members are not covered by protection measures assigned to them by the National Protection Unit, despite threats against them, including their children. The protection program is designed to protect the individual directly in the program. If a woman is assigned a bodyguard detail, for example, her children are only protected by the detail if they are with her. These leaders often travel extensively for their work. When they leave their homes, their families are often left exposed. This leaves many leaders feeling vulnerable, because in some cases, their children have been threatened or attacked.

Socorro Y., a human rights defender who was raped by alleged members of a paramilitary successor group in 2009 and has been under Ministry of Interior protection at different times over the last several years, said she is as concerned for her children’s safety as she is for herself:

When they attacked me, they made it very clear that I needed to stay quiet, because if I didn’t the same thing that happened to me would happen to my children—to my daughter more than anyone.… These groups know how to destroy us. They know what we care about. That we are mothers.[314]

Socorro’s protection measures, however, do not include her children.

On May 14, 2012, the Ministry of Interior adopted Resolution 0805—a protocol for incorporating a gender-perspective and women’s rights into its protection program.[315]  The new protocol in theory extends this protection to a leader’s nuclear family, but in practice the protection appears to work the same as before. The unit claims to lack jurisdiction over protection of minors, and so it relies on the ICBF to provide protection. But the ICBF does not have programs designed to protect children of leaders from the types of threats they face. Therefore, the new protocol does not address the need to protect the children of a female leader when she is separated from them due to her leadership activities.

The protocol contains other provisions that make it the Ministry of Interior’s clearest commitment to protecting women leaders. It specifically incorporates Colombia’s international human rights obligations and seeks to address the Constitutional Court’s mandates provided in Auto 092/2008. It also calls for close consultation with women’s rights groups—providing that at least four permanent non-voting members of the Committee for Evaluation of Risk and Recommendation of Measures (CERREM) be women designated by the women’s movement in Colombia.[316] The protocol also encourages participation and collaboration with women petitioners and beneficiaries of the protection program.[317] Most importantly for the women and girls with whom Human Rights Watch spoke, the protocol outlines special, emergency steps for displaced women and girls—recognizing the constitutional presumption of their risk.

Holding accountable perpetrators of violence and threats against leaders is essential to ensuring their durable protection. The National Protection Unit’s protocol recognizes the importance of complementary measures to enhance the protection, including measures to guarantee access to justice. It is primarily the duty of the Attorney General’s Office to provide access to justice.

Women leaders of the displaced reported facing a range of obstacles when seeking justice for abuses, including justice authorities downplaying the nature of the threats against them, failing to contact them after they filed a criminal complaint, and in some cases, refusing to accept a criminal complaint in the first place.[318] These obstacles contribute to widespread impunity for these crimes.

One example of the problems faced by leaders seeking justice is the case of Analia C., who was raped for a fourth time in February 2012, while under the protection of the National Protection Unit. According to three separate accounts of the case, in April 2012, several investigators from the attorney general’s office working on her criminal case questioned her former bodyguards about her character, including who her partners were and her drinking habits. According to one of Analia’s friends—who was interviewed by the investigators—the investigators told her that Analia’s former bodyguards “didn’t have a good impression of her.”[319] They also asked her friend specific personal questions related to Analia’s social habits and personal relationships, based on what Analia believes is information from former bodyguards.[320] The same investigators also questioned Analia’s status as a leader, asking her friends, “why she needed protection” when “leaders older and more important don’t have protection like her.” [321]  The apparent misconduct eroded Analia’s trust—and that of other human rights defenders who work with her—in the protection and justice systems overall.