Crimen organizado en las Américas

En el continente americano, el crimen organizado opera a través de diversas actividades, muchas de ellas con un componente transnacional, incluyendo el tráfico de droga, la minería ilegal y la trata de personas. Los grupos criminales no solo logran infiltrarse en el Estado o actuar con la complicidad de funcionarios públicos, sino que, en algunos contextos, ejercen control territorial. Estas dinámicas afectan la protección y el ejercicio de los derechos humanos de la población, en particular derechos económicos y sociales reconocidos por el Protocolo de San Salvador, como el derecho al trabajo (Artículo 6) y a la educación (Artículo 13), así como derechos civiles y políticos consagrados en la Convención Americana sobre Derechos Humanos, incluyendo el derecho a la vida (Artículo 4) y la libertad de expresión (Artículo 13).

En Reyes Mantilla y otros vs. Ecuador, la Corte Interamericana de Derechos Humanos (Corte IDH) sostuvo que “los Estados tienen la obligación de garantizar la seguridad y mantener el orden público dentro de su territorio, y que, por consiguiente, deben emplear los medios necesarios para luchar contra los fenómenos de delincuencia, narcotráfico y criminalidad organizada” [párrafo 137], sujetos a las limitaciones impuestas por las obligaciones en materia de derechos humanos. Bajo distintas modalidades e intensidades, los gobiernos de la región han recurrido cada vez más a estados de emergencia, militarización y detenciones a gran escala para hacer frente a los grupos criminales, medidas que, a su vez, suelen constituir o derivar en violaciones de derechos humanos.

La resolución

La resolución de la CIDH es relevante porque afirma con claridad que las políticas de seguridad efectivas son compatibles con los derechos humanos. La Comisión busca sostener que es posible desmantelar a las organizaciones criminales a la vez que se respeta el debido proceso, las libertades individuales y la dignidad humana. Incluso va más allá al señalar que un enfoque basado en derechos humanos “constituye una condición indispensable para la legitimidad, eficacia y sostenibilidad de las políticas de seguridad” [página 1].

Para respaldar lo que plantea, la CIDH desarrolla cincuenta recomendaciones, entre ellas el fortalecimiento de las capacidades judiciales y de las fiscalías (22 y 27), la limitación del uso de los estados de emergencia (43-44), el combate a la corrupción y la impunidad (36-37) y la recuperación de activos ilícitos (30). Estas medidas reflejan un entendimiento del crimen organizado como un fenómeno estructural y policéntrico, más allá de un enfoque restringido al ámbito penal, al tiempo que reconocen la necesidad de una acción estatal urgente.

La Comisión también resalta el impacto diferenciado del crimen organizado sobre grupos vulnerables, retomando su trabajo previo sobre niñez, mujeres, personas LGBT y defensores de derechos humanos. Esto es significativo ya que llama a los gobiernos a diseñar e implementar respuestas que aborden las formas específicas en que estos grupos experimentan tanto la violencia criminal como las políticas estatales.

Limitaciones y el futuro

Es importante señalar algunas limitaciones. En primer lugar, la resolución de la CIDH no es vinculante y forma parte del soft law del sistema interamericano. El Artículo 41(b) de la Convención Americana sobre Derechos Humanos faculta a la Comisión a formular recomendaciones que dependen de la voluntad de los Estados de implementarlas.

En segundo lugar, parecería haber una cuestión irresuelta en torno a qué constituye una política de seguridad “efectiva”, en particular cuando reducciones de la violencia en el corto plazo tienen como contrapartida una erosión institucional en el largo plazo. En la parte considerativa, la CIDH critica enfoques basados en el control coercitivo que “ha[n] resultado en el incremento de manera desproporcionada de la población carcelaria sin lograr una reducción efectiva de los índices delictivos” [página 8], citando como fuente un artículo académico de 2008. Este tipo de políticas debe ser cuestionado cuando deriva en violaciones de derechos humanos, pero sus efectos no deberían ser sobreestimados ni generalizados, en particular a la luz de debates actuales en contextos como los de El Salvador, donde existen informes creíbles de mejoras en la situación de seguridad, acompañados de serias preocupaciones sobre su sostenibilidad y su impacto a largo plazo en el Estado de derecho y las instituciones democráticas.

Estas limitaciones no opacan la importancia del documento. La resolución fortalece el rol de la CIDH en la configuración de estándares regionales en un contexto de alta inseguridad y creciente presión por respuestas efectivas en el continente. Asimismo, pone de relieve que, sin importar la ideología política, el diseño de políticas de seguridad compatibles con los derechos humanos constituye un desafío compartido en la región.

La resolución es un paso importante, aunque no el primero ni el último, hacia la consolidación de un enfoque de derechos humanos para abordar el crimen organizado. Su impacto dependerá en última instancia de que los Estados, las organizaciones de la sociedad civil y la comunidad académica la tomen en serio y continúen desarrollándola.

Organised Crime in the Americas

Across the Americas, organised crime operates through a range of often transnational activities, including drug trafficking, illegal mining, and human trafficking. Criminal groups not only infiltrate public institutions or collude with state actors but, in some contexts, exercise territorial control. These dynamics severely undermine the protection and enjoyment of people’s human rights, particularly economic and social rights under the Protocol of San Salvador such as access to work (Article 6) and education (Article 13), as well as civil and political rights under the American Convention on Human Rights, including the rights to life (Article 4) and freedom of expression (Article 13).

The Inter-American Court of Human Rights (IACtHR) in Reyes Mantilla y otros vs. Ecuador affirmed that “states have an obligation to guarantee security and maintain public order within their territory and, consequently, must employ the necessary means to combat crime, drug trafficking, and organised criminal activity,” [para 137] albeit within the limits imposed by human rights law. While approaches vary across countries, governments in the region have increasingly relied on states of emergency, militarisation, and large-scale arrests to curtail criminal gangs—measures which often become sources of human rights violations themselves.

The Resolution

The IACHR resolution is important because it clearly states that effective security policies are compatible with human rights. The Commission seeks to assert that it is possible to dismantle criminal gangs while respecting due process, personal freedoms, and human dignity. It goes further by saying that a human rights approach “constitutes an essential element for the legitimacy, effectiveness, and sustainability of public policies and strategies in the field of security.” [page 1]

To support its claim, the IACHR sets out 50 recommendations, including strengthening judicial and prosecutorial capacities (22 and 27), limiting the use of states of emergency (43-44), addressing corruption and impunity (36-37), and recovering illicit assets (30). These measures reflect an understanding of organised crime as a structural and polycentric phenomenon, rather than merely a law enforcement problem, while still recognising the need for urgent state action.

The Commission also highlights the differentiated impact of organised crime on vulnerable groups, building on its previous work on children, women, LGBT persons, and human rights defenders. This is significant, as it calls for tailored responses that address the specific ways in which these groups experience both criminal violence and state policies.

Shortcomings and the Future

Some limitations should nevertheless be noted. First, the IACHR resolution is not binding and forms part of the system’s body of soft law. Adopted under Article 41(b) of the American Convention on Human Rights, which empowers the Commission to make recommendations, its impact ultimately depends on states’ willingness to implement them.

Second, there seems to be an unanswered question on what constitutes “effective” security policies, particularly when short-term reductions in violence come at the expense of long-term institutional erosion. In its preambular paragraphs, the IACHR critiques coercive approaches for leading “to the disproportionate increase in the prison population without achieving an effective reduction in crime rates,” [page 8] relying on a 2008 academic article. Such policies should indeed be questioned where they undermine human rights, but their effects should not be overstated or generalised, particularly in light of ongoing debates in contexts such as El Salvador, where there are credible reports of improvements in the security situation alongside concerns about their sustainability and their long-term impact on the rule of law and democratic institutions.

These limitations do not detract from the document’s overall significance. The resolution reinforces the IACHR’s role in shaping regional standards at a time of acute insecurity and growing pressure for effective responses across the Americas. More importantly, it affirms that, regardless of political orientation, designing security policies consistent with human rights is a shared challenge across the region.

The resolution is an important, though neither the first nor the final, step towards consolidating a human rights-based approach to organised crime. Its impact will ultimately depend on whether states, nongovernmental organisations, and scholars take it seriously and further develop it.

The ICJ has confirmed that States are legally obliged to protect the climate system for both present and future generations; greenhouse gas (GHGs) emissions are directly linked to adverse impacts on fundamental rights; and that climate damage is compensable under international law through restitution, compensation, and satisfaction. It also assessed fundamental remarks in relation to issues of attribution and causation, referring to climate change, by emphasizing that a failure to exercise regulatory due diligence can be ranked as an internationally wrongful act and, therefore, attributable to a State.

Traditional international law has often required a sufficiently direct and certain causal nexus between the wrongful act and the injury suffered by the Applicant—a standard nearly impossible to meet, given the diffuse and cumulative nature of climate change.

However, the ICJ observed that it is scientifically possible to determine each State’s total contribution to global emissions, taking into account both historical and current emissions, and considers that rules on State responsibility admit the possibility of determining the responsibility of States in the climate change context.

The ICJ ’emphasizes that the internationally wrongful act in question is not the emission of GHGs per se, but the breach of conventional and customary obligations pertaining to the protection of the climate system from significant harm resulting from anthropogenic emissions’ by translating it into failure to exercise regulatory due diligence’ [para 427].

The existing legal standard for establishing causation can be applied to establish causation between the internationally wrongful act (non-compliance with States’ obligations to protect the climate system from harm caused by anthropogenic GHG emissions) and the damage suffered by States as a result of such a wrongful act.

Causation plays a role in determining reparation. Since reparation implies the existence of damage, causation must be established between the State’s wrongful act and the particular damage suffered by the injured individuals.

On the other hand, the IACtHR delivered its own transformative AO, explicitly recognizing the right to a healthy climate as an autonomous fundamental right on par with rights to life, health, and dignity [para 300].

It emphasized that due diligence remains the central criterion for assessing state responsibility: States must demonstrate that they have taken all reasonable measures within their power to prevent climate harm and protect this fundamental right [para 231-237].

The IACtHR notes that the strict application of certain general provisions on evidentiary matters could represent an unjustified obstacle to effective access to justice in climate litigation [para 552]. Against this backdrop, the IACtHR gives new ways of interpretation of the evidentiary rules based on the principles of availability of evidence, procedural cooperation, pro persona, pro natura, and pro actione, to interpret provisions concerning the admissibility, reliability, and assessment of evidence flexibly and to avoid them becoming unjustified procedural barriers for victims, by guaranteeing access to appropriate proof such as satellite evidence in view of its probative pertinence in the context of the climate emergency [para 556].

Both Courts have underlined the need to adopt a more flexible way of interpreting the causal nexus between States’ conduct and individual harms, given its crucial role in assessing victimhood in human rights violations derived from climate change.

This development can have concrete consequences, considering the increasing cross-fertilization working in international human rights law. Even the ECHR jurisprudence, in assessing applicants’ victim status, has recalled that “causation must always be regarded in the light of the factual nature of the alleged violation and the nature and scope of the legal obligations at issue.” [para 435]

The convergence of these two AOs has the potential to mutually reinforce frameworks that strengthen victims’ positions in climate litigation. As these principles filter through domestic legal systems and inform future litigation, we may be witnessing the beginning of a new era in which individuals will no longer need to reach an especially high threshold to be able to demand accountability under international law, by expanding admissibility criteria and allowing individuals to be recognized as victims of climate change.

The Venezuelan exodus is unprecedented in scale and character. Unlike most historical patterns of emigration from LAC, this forced displacement situation constitutes a South–South movement, with the vast majority relocating to neighbouring countries such as Colombia, Peru and Brazil. As highlighted by the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights, Venezuela has experienced grave and systematic human rights violations. Thousands of people, particularly those perceived as government opponents, were subjected to arbitrary detention, extrajudicial executions, torture and other cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment, including sexual violence against women. Attacks on freedom of expression and the erosion of the rule of law have created widespread impunity and insecurity. Against this backdrop, Venezuela’s mass exodus constitutes a case of forced displacement under international law, placing it within the framework of refugee protection.

Despite this reality, the use of asylum has not been prioritized by host countries in the region. Instead, states have increasingly relied on temporary protection pathways, as seen in Peru, Colombia, Brazil and Ecuador. Often modelled on practices developed elsewhere, these measures are presented as pragmatic solutions capable of delivering immediate relief. Yet their extensive adoption is striking given the region’s own established legal frameworks for protection. This generally robust architecture is best highlighted by the 1984 Cartagena Declaration , which expressly broadens the definition of refugee to include contexts such as generalized violence, massive human rights violations, and international and internal armed conflict (see para.3).

Only a minority of countries, such as Mexico and Brazil, have explicitly recognised Venezuelan refugees under the Cartagena definition, and only doing so at some moments. The prevailing regional pattern is either a restrictive application of the 1951 Refugee Convention or the creation of temporary protection pathways to circumvent asylum recognition. From a legal perspective, this pattern reflects the enduring influence of a Northern-centric design in the global protection regime, one that often fails to accommodate the specific types of displacement encountered in the Global South.

Third World Approaches to International Law (TWAIL) provide a useful lens to better understand this context, as it calls for a critical examination of the origins and institutional design of international law. The framework highlights how Global South states are often marginalised in legal development and compelled to inherit predominantly Eurocentric legal frameworks, such as the 1951 Refugee Convention, which do not necessarily reflect the mobility dynamics Global South states face. Understanding legal protection responses to Venezuelan displacement in LAC through a TWAIL perspective reveals how international instruments rooted in regional experience, most notably the Cartagena Declaration, often remain more rhetorical than operative.

Although these legal instruments specifically designed to address large-scale, intra-regional displacement, the Venezuelan mobility highlights how they have been sidelined in favour of practices that instead offer ad hoc, temporary solutions. Examples include Peru’s Permiso Temporal de Permanencia (PTP) and Carné de Permiso Temporal de Permanencia (CPP), Ecuador’s Visa de Residencia Temporal de Excepción (VIRTE), the Categoría Especial Temporal (CET) in Costa Rica.

The practical consequences of privileging temporary statuses are tangible. Protections typically associated with refugee status such as non-refoulement, family reunification, and simplified administrative procedures, are rarely considered in these ad hoc legal pathways. At the bottom-up level, Venezuelans often face legal limbo, as expiring permits and uncertain renewals create precarity and leave them without viable pathways to long-term solutions and integration. Comparative evidence indicates that such instability carries serious social and economic costs and ultimately undermines effective protection at scale.

These developments not only limit legal protections but also risk eroding LAC’s distinctive asylum traditions, a defining feature of Latin America’s long-standing legal tradition, exemplified by its enduring practice of granting diplomatic asylum and its expansive interpretation of the refugee definition. They embody a paradox in which regional states, by privileging externally driven and short-term instruments, risk bypassing their own legal contributions to International Refugee Law.

The way forward is not a dismissal of the 1951 Convention nor a rejection of temporary statuses, but rather a deliberate reorientation of policy and practice toward legal mechanisms that respond more effectively to the realities and needs of displaced people in LAC. This requires the consistent application of regional frameworks, strengthened administrative capacity and funding to ensure fair and efficient refugee status determination procedures, secure access to family reunification and social rights, and the creation of pathways to long-term solutions. From a TWAIL perspective, addressing these challenges also means advancing the decolonisation of the global refugee regime by prioritising Global South narratives and fostering the meaningful application of LAC’s own legal frameworks.

What does the Inter-American Human Rights System say about the relationship between IHL and IHRL?

The institutional approach of the IACtHR and the IACHR towards IHL has contributed to the complementarity between IHRL and IHL, recognizing that both branches of law are applicable in contexts of armed conflict. Both regional bodies have used IHL to interpret provisions of the American Convention on several occasions, based on Article 29 of the American Convention on Human Rights and Article 31 of the 1969 Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties (see, e.g., Case of Cruz Sánchez et al v. Peru).

This complementary approach has been incorporated in cases regarding people deprived of liberty in the context of armed conflicts. For example, in the Case of Vásquez Durand et al. vs. Ecuador, the IACtHR analyzed the detention and subsequent disappearance of a Peruvian merchant by the armed forces of Ecuador during the international armed conflict (IAC) between Peru and Ecuador. In its judgement, the IACtHR stressed that customary IHL, the Geneva Conventions of 1949 and it’s Additional Protocol I, were appropriate complementary tools to interpret the obligations under the American Convention. By contrast, in the Case of Yarce et al. vs. Colombia regarding the non-international armed conflict (NIAC) in Colombia, the IACtHR considered that the provisions of the American Convention contained guarantees that are more specific and protective of the right to personal liberty than those of the applicable IHL rules.

The IACHR has also referred to the interplay between IHL and IHRL regarding persons deprived of liberty. In its Report about Guantanamo, the Inter-American Commission affirmed the convergence between IHL and IHRL guarantees and recognized that “reasons of public security may justify restrictions on liberty or the extension of normal periods of preventive or administrative detention.”

Finding synergies: What does IHL say about detention and internment? What are the similarities with IHRL?

In an IAC, the IV Geneva Convention establishes that a person can be interned or placed in an assigned residence only if security reasons make it necessary (Article 42). The 1958 Commentary to the IV Geneva Convention affirms that no definition of the term “security of the State” was included; however, some conduct that would fall in this category is: subversive activity, direct assistance to the enemy, and actions of sabotage or espionage. Also, the mere fact that a person is a subject of the enemy State does not justify such measures.

Concerning occupied territories, the IV Geneva Convention requires “imperative reasons of security” for the Occupying Power to subject a person to internment or assigned residence (Article 78). The collective and stresses that internment is considered an even more exceptional measure in occupied territories; therefore, this measure must be based on imperative reasons of security, the measure cannot be collective, and must be applied on a case-by-case basis. The latter standard is consistent with the case law of the IACtHR about collective deprivations of liberty, discussed in Part I.

It should be noted that customary IHL prohibits arbitrary deprivation of liberty in both IAC and NIAC. To guarantee this, the party ordering the internment must verify that there is a legitimate security reason, that the restriction is necessary, and that no other measure could be applied. This is consistent with the standard of the IACtHR of legitimate purpose, appropriateness, necessity, and proportionality.

Two additional guarantees against arbitrary deprivation of liberty are the right to have the internment reconsidered as soon as possible by an appropriate court or administrative board and the right to a periodical review of the internment by a court or administrative board (IV Geneva Convention, Article 43). The 1958 Commentary points out that the initial review is not conducted automatically; it has to be requested. This contrasts with the right of detained persons to be promptly brought before a court or authorized officer under the American Convention, which operates automatically and thus establishes a more protective standard. The 1958 Commentary also states that the review body must be objective and impartial. This is also contained in the right to a fair trial in the American Convention, which is considered a non-derogable right in the Inter-American System.

Finally, the right to receive information about the reasons for internment is another point of convergence between IHL and IHRL. This right is included among the fundamental guarantees of Article 75 of Additional Protocol I, although not in the IV Geneva Convention. The Inter-American Human Rights System has important case-law on the content of this right that complements IHL provisions.

Concluding remarks

The Inter-American Human Rights System has reaffirmed the complementary application of IHL and IHRL in armed conflicts. This approach allows States to both interpret the provisions of the American Convention and the American Declaration, resorting to IHL rules, as well as to provide guidelines for increasing the protection set out in IHL using human rights standards.

In particular, the decisions and reports of the IACtHR and the IACHR provide important criteria to examine the arbitrariness of a detention or internment in armed conflict and to guarantee the rights of persons deprived of liberty to be informed of the reasons for their detention and to access judicial review.

The Santos Nascimento and Ferreira Gomes case deals with the structural racial discrimination that was suffered by Neusa dos Santos Nascimento and Gisele Ana Ferreira Gomes in the recruitment process and labour relations at a medical insurance company in the state of São Paulo. The IACtHR condemns the Brazilian State but is innovative in requiring that Brazil adopts legislative, political and administrative measures to guide corporations to implement actions to prevent acts of discrimination in their personnel recruitment processes. The Inter-American Commission of Human Rights (IACHR) also requested the Brazilian State to adopt legislative measures and public policies to guide corporations in the implementation of human rights due diligence. Therefore, the Santos Nascimento and Ferreira Gomes case evidences an important shift in the IACtHR’s lenses towards BHR through the adoption of judgments directed to the furtherance of corporate responsibility, indirectly shaping corporate’s actions towards human rights through public policies.

Previously, in the Fireworks Factory case, in matters referring to BHR, the IACtHR in condemning the Brazilian State only required it to present a report on the application of its National Guidelines on Business and Human Rights. Both cases are embedded in the UN Guiding Principles on Business and Human Rights (UNGP) and condemns the structural racism present in Brazil, revealing an important dialogue between the Inter-American System and the United Nations’ framework on BHR in the judgement of crimes of racism.

The Da Silva case concerned the murder of Manoel Luiz da Silva, a member of the Brazil’s Landless Workers’ Movement (MST), by private security agents of a rural farm in the state of Paraíba. The only reference to BHR in the Da Silva judgment is a cross-reference to the IACHR’s recommendation that the Brazilian State recognize and promote the UNGP to guarantee the protection of peasants and investigate crimes committed by private agents in rural areas [para 110, f. 114]. In contrast, both Santos Nascimento and Ferreira Gomes case and Fireworks Factory case refer to human rights violations in regard to industrial or urban contexts.

Even though the Fireworks Factory in Santo Antônio de Jesus was located in a rural area, it was a case of clandestine industrial production. On the contrary, the Da Silva case refers to human rights violations against rural workers and concerns a private security corporation. Neither the UNGP nor the Voluntary Principles on Security and Human Rights were mobilized in the legal analysis promoted in the IACtHR’s judgement in the Da Silva case.

Even though the judgment of the Santos Nascimento and Ferreira Gomes case evidences an important development of the IACtHR’s approach towards BHR, the Da Silva case’s minor focus on the theme brings up a question over the extent of the IACtHR’s interpretation of BHR’s frameworks in its own case law. The Da Silva case could have been an opportunity to the IACtHR develop its own interpretation over human rights violations committed by private security corporations and, especially, concerning the BHR agenda over land rights and rural conflicts in the Americas.

The centrality of the IACtHR’s BHR lenses over urban and industrial contexts represents a methodological limitation that must be disrupted by the urgent requirement of rights requested by peasants and rural workers in Brazil. The UNGP should be in dialogue with the international human rights treaties in this cause. On the other side, the Santos Nascimento and Ferreira Gomes case is an important opportunity in the strengthening of Brazilian legislative measures in the promotion of corporate human rights due diligence as a framework to businesses fight against racism.

La Oroya is located in the Peruvian Andes. Its environment and people’s health have suffered serious harm from pollution related to metallurgic activities for decades. This blog post, which partially updates a previous journal article of mine, examines the non-compensatory forms of reparation ordered by the IACtHR against Peru, namely, restitution, rehabilitation, satisfaction measures, and non-repetition guarantees. While it acknowledges the IACtHR’s important contributions to reparations for serious environmental damages, it also adopts a critical stance by identifying some deficits in the reparations granted.

Concerning restitution [329-334], the IACtHR ordered Peru to conduct a study to determine the air, soil, and water pollution levels, including a plan to redress environmental damages, based on up-to-date scientific information, caused by heavy metal pollution. Despite the merits of these measures, the IACtHR did not explicitly ask the state to bring back or at least try to restore the situation prior to pollution. Whether this is feasible has to be determined at a later stage, namely, during the implementation stage of the reparations awarded. Yet, the Court should have ordered such an obligation of result as a jurisprudential/normative standard rather than measures that are seemingly obligations of conduct (primarily ‘best efforts’) for Peru.

Regarding rehabilitation [335-338], the Court ordered Peru to provide free, timely, and effective healthcare (medical and psychological or psychiatric treatment) to victims affected by pollution, prioritising children and the elderly. Although these measures are necessary and sound, a major weakness is that the state is instructed to provide such healthcare exclusively through the public healthcare system. Considering the important qualitative differences between private and public healthcare in a developing country such as Peru, the Court should have explicitly mentioned that, if needed or urgent, private healthcare for victims should also be covered by the state.

As to satisfaction measures [339-341], the IACtHR ordered Peru to publish a summary of the judgment in the official gazette and a major Peruvian newspaper; to publish the full judgment on the webpages of the Ministries of Mines or Energy, Health, and Environment; to issue an informative leaflet about the judgment tailored to minors; to disseminate the judgment through the said ministries’ social media networks; and to offer the state’s apologies in a public ceremony in La Oroya, recognizing its international responsibility for human rights violations. In addition these undoubtedly relevant measures, the Court should have expressly recommended that representatives of the polluting private mining companies also apologise. Additionally, the IACtHR – as it has done in other cases (e.g., Plan de Sanchez Massacre), consistently with the UN Reparations Principles – could have ordered Peru to build a monument or memorial in La Oroya to remember the serious damage caused to the environment and local inhabitants; and to proceed with judicial or administrative sanctions against liable individuals.

Concerning non-repetition guarantees [342-355], the IACtHR ordered Peru to harmonise the legislation on air quality standards, keeping levels of polluting metals within the maximum allowed in order to avoid jeopardising the environment and human health; to organize La Oroya’s alert and air quality monitoring; to guarantee that La Oroya’s inhabitants suffering from exposure to pollutants can access healthcare at public institutions; to guarantee that La Oroya mining-metallurgic activities are consistent with international environmental standards; to train state agents on environmental matters; and to set up an information system on air and water quality in Peruvian mining-metallurgic zones. Although these measures correspond to key non-repetition guarantees, the IACtHR could have ordered additional suitable non-repetition guarantees. Under its own reparations jurisprudence (e.g., Saramaka, Lhaka Honhat) and/or the UN Reparations Principles, these could have included mechanisms for preventing, monitoring and resolving social conflicts that usually occur in mining-metallurgic areas, plus further legislative review and reform on environmental and related issues.

Therefore, while the IACtHR’s La Oroya judgment marks an important legal first in reparations for environmental damages, attention should also be drawn to what the Court could and should have additionally ordered. Yet, it should be also acknowledged that over-ambitious reparation awards against states can be counterproductive: states may become reluctant to implement the IACtHR’s judgments. In any event, the IACtHR could have engaged with the recent African Court of Human and Peoples’ Rights’ reparation jurisprudence (see the LIDHO case), which discussed forms of reparation involving pollution. In this way, the IACtHR could benefit from and contribute towards potential and meaningful judicial cross-fertilisation in order to better redress serious harm inflicted on the environment and on entire populations.

Read more:

• Climate change in Strasbourg: a big victory for the human-rights agenda through the rigorous application of international human-rights law
• Giving Voice to the Vulnerable: How Advisory Opinions Have the Potential to Advance Climate Justice through International Courts
• A Commentary on Recent Developments in the Inter-American Court of Human Rights’ Advisory Opinion on the Standing of Legal Entities

Sin embargo, las leyes de amnistía también tienen un lado oscuro. Cuando son sancionadas por un gobierno en beneficio de sus propios funcionarios – en cuyo caso deberíamos hablar de una “auto amnistía” – estas leyes impiden que exista una adecuada rendición de cuentas. Si no son complementadas con otros mecanismos como las comisiones de verdad o las reparaciones económicas a las víctimas, las amnistías pueden contribuir a que los perpetradores de graves violaciones a los derechos humanos queden impunes. Si, además, el gobierno responsable de tales crímenes controla el Poder Judicial y los medios de comunicación, la impunidad queda entonces prácticamente asegurada. Esto mismo es lo que está ocurriendo en Nicaragua, de acuerdo con las conclusiones del reciente Informe elaborado por el Grupo de Expertos en Derechos Humanos sobre Nicaragua, presentado ante el Consejo de Derechos Humanos de las Naciones Unidas el 28 de febrero de 2024.

El Informe del Grupo de Expertos en Derechos Humanos sobre Nicaragua

A pesar de la falta de colaboración del gobierno de Nicaragua [Informe, 4], el Grupo – un cuerpo conformado por tres expertos independientes con la asistencia de staff de las Naciones Unidas – logró reunir pruebas de abusos y violaciones sistemáticas de derechos humanos cometidas por funcionarios estatales desde al menos abril del 2018 hasta la actualidad [3]. Estas incluyen detenciones arbitrarias [17], maltratos a personas detenidas que en ocasiones han superado el umbral de la tortura [26], violaciones al derecho a la libertad ambulatoria y al derecho a una nacionalidad [33] y exilio masivo [45]. Además, estos crímenes fueron cometidos en su mayor medida contra grupos específicos – a saber, estudiantes universitarios [48], indígenas [59], miembros de la Iglesia Católica [66], y miembros del Movimiento Campesino [74], entre otros –, quienes fueron seleccionados por suponer una amenaza contra la agenda totalitaria del gobierno.

El Grupo también estableció que estos crímenes fueron cometidos en un contexto de absoluta impunidad [23], generado por la centralización de todos los poderes estatales en manos del presidente Daniel Ortega y la vice-presidenta Rosario Murillo. La ausencia de un Poder Judicial independiente y el dictado de una ley de amnistía que entró en vigencia el 8 de junio de 2019 [25] contribuyeron a afianzar esta situación.

La ley de amnistía de 2019 (Ley 996)

La ley de amnistía fue dictada con el pretexto de conseguir la estabilidad, asegurar la paz y mejorar las condiciones económicas para lograr el desarrollo integral de las familias nicaragüenses [considerando único], tras la feroz represión del 18 de abril de 2018 contra manifestantes que protestaban contra una reforma previsional, la cual dejó un saldo de más de 300 muertos.

La ley concedió una amplia amnistía a todas las personas que participaron en los sucesos acaecidos a partir del 18 de abril de 2018 y hasta su entrada en vigencia [art. 1], sin distinguir entre civiles y funcionarios estatales. Asimismo, dispuso que las personas detenidas al momento de su entrada en vigencia fueran liberadas y sus antecedentes penales borrados [art. 1]. La amnistía se aplicó a “todos los delitos políticos y los delitos comunes conexos con estos que son tipificados por el ordenamiento jurídico penal vigente en Nicaragua”, exceptuando “aquellos regulados en Tratados Internacionales que Nicaragua es Estado Parte” [art. 2]. Finalmente, se incluyó un artículo que establece que las personas beneficiadas por la amnistía “deben abstenerse de perpetrar nuevos hechos que incurran en conductas repetitivas generadoras de los delitos aquí contemplados” [art. 3], bajo apercibimiento de revocarse el beneficio concedido.

Algunos problemas recurrentes

La ley de amnistía fue criticada por la Comisión Interamericana de Derechos Humanos y por la ex Alta Comisionada de las Naciones Unidas para los Derechos Humanos, Michelle Bachelet. También fue objetada en un documento elaborado por la Fundación para el Debido Proceso, por resultar contraria al Derecho Internacional en virtud de su amplitud [3.1], ambigüedad [3.2] y su calidad de auto amnistía [3.4], que la vuelve incompatible con la obligación de investigar y sancionar graves violaciones de derechos humanos, conforme la doctrina establecida por la Corte Interamericana de Derechos Humanos en el caso Barrios Altos v Peru. A estas objeciones, debe añadirse su falta de legitimidad democrática. A diferencia de otras leyes de amnistía que, aun siendo sustancialmente incompatibles con el deber de investigar y sancionar graves violaciones a los derechos humanos, contaban con aval democrático – tales como la Ley de Caducidad de la Pretensión Punitiva del Estado (Ley 15.848) sancionada en 1986 en Uruguay y ratificada en el referéndum de 1989 y el plebiscito de 2009 (véase, al respecto, el caso Gelman v Uruguay y las críticas que suscitó) –, difícilmente pueda calificarse a la ley de amnistía nicaragüense como democrática. Esta ley se asemeja más a la Ley de Pacificación Nacional dictada en Argentina en 1983 (Ley 22.924) por el gobierno militar en retirada, en que su contenido resulta tan objetable como su origen.

En resumen, dado el contexto en que fue sancionada, marcado por la restricción de libertades cívicas, el silenciamiento de cualquier forma de oposición y la subordinación de los poderes Legislativo y Judicial al Ejecutivo, la ley de amnistía nicaragüense de 2019 debe ser caracterizada como un intento de consagrar impunidad antes que una herramienta para lograr la pacificación social. Constituye, en este sentido, un recordatorio de los límites y riesgos de las leyes de amnistía dictadas en contextos autoritarios.

Para la versión en inglés del blog, véase aquí.

However, amnesty laws also have a dark side. When sanctioned by a government to shield their own officers from criminal prosecution – in which case it would be more accurate to speak of a self-amnesty – these laws block any prospects of accountability. If they are not coupled with complementary mechanisms, such as compulsory reparations to victims or truth commissions, amnesties ensure that perpetrators of human rights violations get away with their crimes. When, additionally, the government responsible for said crimes has control of the judiciary and the media, impunity is virtually secured. This gruesome picture reflects what is currently happening in Nicaragua, as exhibited in the recent Report of the Group of Human Rights Experts on Nicaragua, submitted to the Human Rights Council pursuant to its resolution 52/2, on 28 February 2024.

The Report of the Group of Human Rights Experts on Nicaragua

Despite the lack of collaboration from the Nicaraguan government [Report, 4], the Group – a body composed of three independent experts with the support of a secretariat comprised of United Nations officials – was able to gather evidence of systematic human rights abuses perpetrated by state officials since at least April 2018 and up to this day [3]. These include arbitrary detentions [17], ill-treatment of prisoners – which in many cases reached the threshold of torture [26] –, violations of the right to freedom of movement and the right to nationality [33], and mass exile [45]. Furthermore, these crimes were disproportionately committed against specific actors [14] – namely, university students [48], indigenous people [59], members of the Catholic Church [66], and members of the campesino movement [74], among other groups – who were targeted for being threats to the totalitarian agenda of the government.

The Group also found that the aforementioned crimes were perpetrated in a context of total impunity [23], favored by the centralisation of all state powers in the hands of President Daniel Ortega and Vice President Rosario Murillo. The lack of an independent judiciary, combined with the passing of an amnesty law in 8 June 2019 [25], cemented the conditions under which the pursuit of justice became factually impossible.

The 2019 amnesty law (Ley 996)

The amnesty law was sanctioned with the alleged purpose of securing internal peace and stability after the events of 18 April 2018, in which the government repressed demonstrators who were protesting against its proposed social security reform, leaving a death toll of more than 300 people.

The law granted full amnesty to everyone – without distinction between state officials and citizens – who had participated in the events of 18 April 2018 and thereafter, up to the day of its coming into force. Those imprisoned were to be immediately released, and their criminal record erased [art 1]. All ordinary as well as political crimes were covered by the amnesty, with the exception of “those regulated in the treaties to which Nicaragua is a party” [art 2]. A further provision established that everyone benefited by the law had to refrain from committing acts of the same nature as those amnestied in the future, or else the amnesty would be revoked [art 3].

Some familiar shortcomings

Upon its release, the amnesty law was criticised by the Inter-American Commission of Human Rights and the then United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights Michelle Bachelet.

Relatedly, the law was criticized in a document elaborated by the Due Process of Law Foundation for being inconsistent with International Law, due to its ambiguity [3.2], openness [3.1], and its nature of a self-amnesty [3.4], which rendered it incompatible with the obligation to investigate and sanction serious violations of human rights, as established by the Inter-American Court of Human Rights in Barrios Altos v Peru. To these objections, it should be added its weak democratic pedigree. Unlike the case of other amnesty laws which, although substantially inconsistent with the duty to investigate and prosecute human rights violations, had been democratically backed – such as Uruguay’s 1986 Ley de Caducidad de la Pretensión Punitiva del Estado (Ley 15.848), which was reaffirmed in a 1989 referendum and a 2009 plebiscite  (see Gelman v Uruguay and relevant commentary) –, it is hardly possible to see Nicaragua’s 2019 amnesty law as the product of the popular will. On the contrary, Nicaragua’s amnesty law resemblances Argentina’s 1983 Ley de Pacificación Nacional (Ley 22.924) – which was sanctioned by the outgoing military coup to avoid criminal prosecution of its own members –, in that its content is just as objectionable as its origin.

In conclusion, given the findings of the Group of Human Rights Experts with regard to the curtailing of civil liberties and the silencing of any form of criticism by the Nicaraguan government, as well as the subordination of the Judicial and Legislative branches to the Executive, the 2019 amnesty law should be characterised as an attempt to guarantee impunity rather than as a tool for social pacification. It serves, in this way, as a reminder of the limits and dangers of amnesty laws sanctioned in authoritarian contexts.

For the Spanish version of the blog, see here.

The case refers to the international responsibility of El Salvador for the violations of Beatriz’s rights, caused by the absolute prohibition on the voluntary interruption of pregnancy in the country. The restrictive normative framework prevented access to a legal, quick, and opportune interruption of a non-viable pregnancy. Furthermore, the pregnancy presented serious risk to life, health, and personal integrity to Beatriz, who carried an autoimmune disease. It is true, the IACHR/OAS has never ruled on abortion, even though in the case Artavia Murillo y otros vs Costa Rica the Court understood that the right to life is not absolute. But it has definitely ruled on gender equality and gender violence, expanding women’s rights. As such, to treat abortion differently would be inconsistent with its own case law.

Although abortion has historically been treated as a liberty matter, involving autonomy and privacy, if one looks at reproduction in context, equality emerges as central to both understanding and dealing with the issue. This, because gender inequality intersects with other systems of oppression such as racism and economic inequalities (the latter of special relevance to the case of Beatriz), permeates all steps of reproduction. The dimension of equality implied in reproductive rights is not exhausted by the statement that women get pregnant, and men do not. The reproductive process is determined by power asymmetries that pervade how unwanted pregnancies happen, the decision to keep or terminate it, and, in parallel, the unequal reproductive process perpetuates subordination.

In this context, the law continues to play a relevant role. Legal restrictions on abortion receive numerous justifications – the most common being the protection of the life of the fetus. But it is not unreasonable to think that roles socially assigned to women are part of the way the law deals with the issue. In this case, it is assumed that women’s lives (social and biological) must give way to the protection of the fetus, naturalizing the idea that motherhood is the ultimate purpose of women’s lives. This is wide open in the case of Beatriz; in which case the fetus was non-viable which only reinforces that it’s not just about the life of the fetus.

Bearing in mind the dimension of equality that pervades the issue of abortion, the Court’s understanding of equality should guide the resolution of this case. For instance, the case  Veliz Franco y otros vs Guatemala defined gender violence as ‘violence directed against a woman because she is a woman or violence that affects a woman in a disproportionate way, is a form of discrimination against women’. Also, the Court has expressly repudiated violence carried out passively by civil servants and public authorities by omission or the negligent fulfillment of their duties in González y otros (“Campo Algodonero”) vs Mexico, where it found that violence against women is ‘influenced by a culture of discrimination against women’.

In these cases, the Court recognised gender inequality as a harm to be fought. Abortion restrictions are the same: they disproportionately affect women, constituting discrimination and are influenced by a culture of discrimination. As such, the situation must be treated similarly, for the court to maintain its protective and sensitive track record of protecting rights of women.

The Inter-American Commission on HR concluded that the State is responsible for violating the Human Rights set forth in pertinent international instruments. It also pointed out the need to repair the violations, adopt legislative measures to establish the possibility of terminating a pregnancy in situations of infeasibility of the fetus, as well in case of serious risks to life, health, and physical integrity of the woman.

The case will now be ruled by the Inter-American Court. As women legal scholars, we hope that not only El Salvador be responsibilised, but also that non-repetition measures are applied, so the issue can be treated structurally.