Another Assassination Attempt Against Colombian Vice President Francia Márquez

Correction: The event in Ciudad Juan Bosch took place in May.

SANTO DOMINGO, Dominican Republic—Manuel Dandré recounted a case of the injustice suffered by Haitians and Dominicans of Haitian descent.

Haitian parents of two girls had permanent residency in the Dominican Republic. Both children were Dominicans because they met the constitutional criteria that their parents be in regular migratory status at the moment of their birth in Dominican territory.

“In spite of this, the girls were detained,” Dandré, a lawyer, told this reporter. “The father had to go on a motorcycle to catch up with the bus that was transporting them.” With the intervention of United Nations International Children’s Emergency Fund (UNICEF) and UN-affiliated International Organization For Migration (IOM), the deportation was prevented at the border.

Unfortunately, that is but one case where a family was not broken apart. From January to November 2022, UNICEF had counted more than 1,800 unaccompanied children expelled to Haiti from the Dominican Republic, often without documents to prove that they were Haitians. In the midst of this situation, Dandré provides legal assistance through two organizations that assist Haitians and Dominicans of Haitian descent, the Sociocultural Movement of Haitian Workers (MOSCTHA) and the Jacques Viau Network.

A record-breaking 154,333 Haitian immigrants were expelled in 2022. That’s more than triple the yearly average of the period between 2017 and 2021. The Dominican government’s campaign of mass deportations is the latest episode in what human-rights advocates, and social and political activists, describe as a strategy to deepen racial discrimination.

Deportations Continue Unabated

United Nations officials had called in November for an end to the mass expulsions of Haitian citizens. However, Dominican President Luis Abinader responded the deportations would not only continue, but would be accelerated. Abinader also issued decree 688-22, which creates a special police unit to target immigrants and orders the immediate expulsion of immigrants living on state or privately owned lands. This definition coincides with the reality of the Bateyes, communities established in sugarcane regions for migrant Haitian workers and their families.

On Nov. 19, the U.S. embassy issued a travel alert according to which travelers to the Dominican Republic “reported being delayed, detained, or subject to heightened questioning at ports of entry and in other encounters with immigration officials based on their skin color.” U.S. Customs and Border Protection (CBP) stopped the entry of raw sugar and sugar products produced by Central Romana Corporation, which operates in the eastern part of the country, stating it had found indicators of forced labor.

The Dominican Ministry of Foreign Affairs’ response stressed that the “humanitarian, social and political” crisis in Haiti “seriously affects the national security of the Dominican Republic.”

“The Dominican government would never have imagined such serious insinuations about our country, whose population evidences in its skin color a wide melting pot of races,” added the official note.

Central Romana, owned by the Cuban-American Fanjul family, replied that CBP’s remarks “do not reflect the policies and practices of Central Romana.”

Extorting Relatives of Detainees

Dandré, born in 1960, is himself one of the more than 200,000 Dominicans of Haitian descent affected by a denationalization policy initiated in 2004, when the migration law defined immigrants without visas as persons “in transit,” to exclude their children from acquiring Dominican nationality at birth. This policy culminated in 2013 with Constitutional Court ruling 168-13, which retroactively applied the criteria of the 2004 General Law of Migration to all born after 1929. Widespread international condemnation ensued. After litigation, Dandré regained documents certifying his Dominican citizenship.

Dandré told this reporter about a 16-year-old girl who was detained by the police and taken to the immigration detention center in the town of Haina, on the outskirts of Santo Domingo, where she was held for nine days. The law prohibits the detention of minors, pregnant women and elderly people in immigration proceedings, but such violations of the law are frequent, he said.

“The Haina detention center is overcrowded and in terribly unsanitary conditions,” Dandré explained. “If a detained person has relatives who bring food, the officers demand payments to deliver it—they extort them.”

When it was imminent that the court would order the release of the girl, she was handed over to another institution, the National Council for Adolescence and Childhood, which carried out her expulsion to Haiti.

“She should never have been taken to Haina, where most of the detainees are men,” Dandré pointed out.

‘Dehumanization’ of Haitian People

Ana Belique is one of the young leaders of the Movimiento Reconocido, which fights for the restitution of Dominican nationality to the people affected by ruling 168-13.

“In 2004, the new Migration Law was made and, in 2010, the Constitution was changed. Both changes are strategically designed to limit the rights of Haitian immigrants in the Dominican Republic,” Belique pointed out.

A statement signed by Movimiento Reconocido and dozens of Dominican and Haitian organizations describes this strategy as the imposition of systematic racial discrimination, warning about the risks of ethnic cleansing and apartheid.

Belique has first-hand knowledge of cases of foreigners who have suffered discrimination because they “look Haitian.” She mentions Caribbean and African exchange students, as well as the case of two Black U.S. citizens besieged in May by neo-Nazis and National Police officers in Ciudad Juan Bosch, a suburb in the eastern part of Santo Domingo.

“What worries me most about the current campaign of mass deportations is the dehumanization against Haitian people,” Belique added.

On Dec. 2, representatives of social organizations met with Dominican Attorney General Miriam German.

Among the complaints they presented regarding human rights violations against the immigrant community were the murders of Joel Lolo and Delouise Estimable. Lolo, a 18-year-old construction worker, was shot in the head by an immigration agent during a warrantless raid on his home in Las Matas de Farfan in March, while Delouise was beaten to death in a truck in the northern province of Valverde in July.

Little more than a week later, an illegal raid took place of the offices of the Dominico-Haitian Women’s Movement (MUDHA), one of the organizations represented in the meeting with the Attorney General. In a joint statement, social organizations denounced that raiding agents wore military intelligence uniforms.

‘To This Day, I Am Without a Pension’

Meanwhile, thousands of Haitian sugarcane workers who arrived in the country between the 1960s and 1970s, like Belique and Dandré’s parents, have organized in the Union of Sugarcane Workers (UTC) to demand the payment of their pensions. Around 15,000 sugarcane workers have been waiting, many of them taking to the streets for years. Some have passed away without the state recognizing their claim. On Dec. 7, they rallied again in front of the Ministry of Labor in Santo Domingo, to demand an end to forced labor in Central Romana.

“I joined in 1972, I worked in Altagracia, in the State Sugar Council,” recounted retired sugarcane worker Yega Fabián. “When I went to the sugar mill they gave me a machete, a sack and sent me to cut cane. I applied for the pension in 2012. To this day, I am without a pension. I have six children and 13 grandchildren. All of them have an identification card, but not me.”

The protest, to the traditional cry of “No sugarcane workers, no sugar,” was marked by news that another retired Haitian sugarcane worker, Lico Alerté, had died early that morning.

Alerté never received his pension.

Vladimir Fuentes is the pen name of a freelance journalist based in the Dominican Republic.

Chile’s population rejecting a proposed constitution on September 4 will hit hard one group: Indigenous people, who are socially and economically disadvantaged, thanks to generations of land dispossession and invisibility in Chile’s political landscape.

Chileans voted against enacting a new constitution that would have replaced the one installed by U.S.-backed dictator Augusto Pinochet in 1980. The document—drafted by an elected body—was defeated with 62 percent voting against (“rechazo” in Spanish) and 38 percent in favor (“apruebo”).

Since 78 percent of Chileans had voted in favor of a new charter in 2020—shortly after a period of social unrest in 2019—the September 4 rejection shocked many. The defeat has halted the newly elected government’s progressive agenda, which would have granted greater gender parity, ecological and human rights.

“I’m sure all this effort won’t have been in vain because this is how countries advance best: Learning from experience and, when necessary, turning back on their tracks to find a new route forward,” said President Gabriel Boric, shortly after conceding defeat.

However, some have accused Boric of double talk.

The Death of Plurinationality

The new constitution would have recognized Indigenous people for the first time, which would have designated Chile a plurinational nation. Chile is the only country in Latin America that does not recognize the Indigenous population.

Cheers followed when the government declared Indigenous representatives would be included in drafting the constitutional document. Shortly afterward, Mapuche academic Elisa Loncon was elected to oversee the process.

The constitution would have also guaranteed ecological protections. Indigenous communities depend on natural resources to maintain their livelihoods and cultures. Their ancestral lands have been sites of conflict as multinationals plunder Chile’s natural resources for profit.

The Araucanía region, the site of conflict between autonomist Mapuche groups and forestry companies, had the largest proportion of rechazo votes at 78 percent.

The rejection serves the interests of big business in the region, and the forestry industry in particular. The Matte group (owners of CMPC), one of the wealthiest economic groups in Chile, funded the rechazo campaign along with the Angelini group that own Forestal Arauco (granted 1 million hectares by the Pinochet regime, expropriated from Mapuche and peasant landowners). The move has been profitable as shares in both companies have gone up by 20.88 percent and 5.82 percent, respectively. One of the top 10 donors to the Rechazo campaign was Italo Zunino Besier, owner of forestry company Virutas de Madera S.A. He gave 10 million pesos ($10,690).

Racist Narratives in the Reject Campaign

The othering of the Mapuche was instrumental for the Rechazo campaign, which capitalized on racist populism and encouraged anti-plurinational sentiment. Rechazo slogans such as “Chile es uno solo” (Chile is one) spread the idea that plurinationality would fragment the nation, while “We want peace” were direct references to the Mapuche struggle for autonomy and the troubles in Araucanía.

The neo-conservative think tank Instituto Res Publica warned, for example, that giving Indigenous communities a say would hurt the economy.

“An argument used by the right was that the constitution would create ‘Indigenous nations,’” Reynaldo Mariqueo, a spokesperson from Mapuche International Link, a non-governmental organization, told Toward Freedom.  “According to them, the Mapuche do not constitute a nation and, therefore, should not be recognized as such. However, we maintain that the Mapuche are not just a nation, but a state.”

The Double Discourse of the State

In the run-up to the presidential election, Boric vowed to heal the rift between Mapuche people and the Chilean state.

“Militarization is the wrong path,” he told the Chilean press. “We must seek dialogue within a historical perspective. This conflict won’t be solved within the remit of ‘public order.’ We must restore confidence and talk about the territorial restoration of the Mapuche Nation.”

But, in July, he placed Araucanía under a military state of emergency. Then, on August 24, Chilean Investigations Police arrested radical Mapuche leader Hector Llaitul. He is leader and spokesperson of Coordinadora Arauco Malleco (CAM), which seeks autonomy from the Chilean state and the right to live on ancestral land in the southern territories of the region of Araucanía.

His son and other members of the CAM have also since been arrested. The detentions have outraged Mapuche leaders.

“For us in the Mapuche world and communities in resistance, the detention of Hector represents a maneuver by the Chilean right-wing supported by the government of Boric,” Richard Curinao, a Mapuche activist and Werken journalist told Toward Freedom. “This is evidently a strategy to curb the advance and control that these leaders and organizations, such as the CAM, whom Hector represents, and halt their expansion in Mapuche communities. And the success they have had in recovering territories, territories that have been usurped by the forestries.”

Juana Calfunao, chief of the Juan Pallileo community in the Aracuania region, is a founder of the Chilean non-governmental organization, Comisión Ética Contra la Tortura (Ethical Commission Against Torture). She accused the police of a “set-up.”

“For us, this is very painful,” Calfunao told the press. “We will defend [Llaitul] until the final consequences. We will defend our weichafe (warrior). We will defend anyone detained in this manner. There have been 140 years of the Chilean State and we will continue to defend ourselves and continue to survive and struggle and confront whatever lies ahead.”

‘Mapuche Convinced Only Way Out Is Emancipation’

Since the outcome of the referendum, Chile has been plagued with political uncertainty.

Gabriel Boric has shuffled his cabinet lurching towards the political center, and there has been talk of another attempt to write the constitution. But this time, Indigenous leaders have not been called to meetings.

Toward Freedom contacted press offices for Chile’s national government and for the Araucanía government, but did not receive a reply.

The majority of Chileans voted to maintain the status quo because they didn’t want to share a state with Indigenous people, Mariqueo said. Similarly, the Mapuche feel neither Chilean nor Argentinian, making plurinationality appear pointless.

“’Reject’ leaves things the way they are,” he added. “Except that, today, most Mapuche are convinced that the only way out (of the conflict) is emancipation from Chilean dominance, which includes—as a tool—the treaties agreed to by the Chilean and Spanish states and international norms, which preclude the creation of the Chilean state.”

Carole Concha Bell is an Anglo-Chilean writer and Ph.D. student at King’s College London.