IRTF News

The deportation of Hondurans, mainly from the United States and Mexico, increased by 84.2% in the first quarter of 2022, compared to the same period of 2021, the Consular and Migration Observatory of Honduras reported Friday.  A total of 24,207 Hondurans were deported between January and March of this year compared to 13,140 in the same period of 2021, according to a report by the Consular Observatory. Of the total number of Honduran returnees in that period, US immigration authorities deported 11,368, including 2,617 minors. The Honduran returnees are attended in the Returning Migrant Attention Centers (CAMR) located in San Pedro Sula and Omoa, in the north and Caribbean of the country.

In a letter to U.S. State Department Secretary Antony Blinken, the two Senators Tim Kaine and Patrick Leahy recognized the steps new Honduran President Xiomara Castro has taken in the fight against corruption and impunity in Honduras, but expressed the urgency of strengthening the legislative framework through an "independent judiciary free of political influence". The letter was published by the Secretary of Foreign Affairs and International Cooperation of Honduras, Enrique Reina, who celebrated that both senators recognized, according to him, the leadership of President Xiomara Castro in the fight against corruption and her support in the installation of an International Commission Against Impunity in Honduras (CICIH).

Title 42 appears to be on its way out. After two years and 1.8 million expulsions, impacting well over 1 million people, Biden announced, and the CDC confirmed, that Title 42 would end on May 23, 2022. Now, the Attorney Generals of Arizona, Louisiana and Mississippi filed a lawsuit to block the administration from ending Title 42. The Arizona Attorney General, Mark Brnovich, who is also running for governor as a Republican, said, “If Title 42 ends, it will result in an even greater crisis at the border that will have a devastating impact, not just on border states, but across the country.” How ending Title 42 will lead to “devastation” across the country is not very clear. But while we think that the end of Title 42 is something to be celebrated, a return to “normal” is not such a great prize.

On March 10, President Joe Biden announced that the United States would designate Colombia as a Major Non-NATO Ally. This designation extends special military and economic privileges to Colombia, including participation in joint defense research and training, and the ability to purchase weapons, ammunition, vehicles, and other surplus war material from the United States. This came on the heels of a U.S. delegation traveling to Venezuela for the first time since the United States broke off diplomatic relations and closed its embassy there in 2019. Motivating the U.S. overture is the potential to resume purchasing Venezuelan oil to compensate for the oil no longer being imported from Russia and to drive a wedge between Russia and its most important Latin American ally. These events illustrate an administration scrambling to repair relations with a region that the United States has long neglected and whose support it has taken for granted.

The weeks since the Russian invasion of Ukraine have witnessed an astonishing unity of purpose among the world’s democracies, as leaders from Wellington to Washington to Warsaw have set aside their differences to stand against Russian aggression. Or so the story goes. What this narrative leaves out, however, is that this unity is a unity of the Global North. Some of the world’s largest democracies, such as Brazil, Mexico, India, and Indonesia, have remained far more tepid, even ambivalent, in their support for Ukraine. This has occasioned little comment in U.S. and European media (who are only fuzzily aware to begin with that the world extends beyond North America and Europe), other than an occasional scolding of these countries’ leaders for shirking their democratic duty. But the Global South’s failure to uncritically accept Northern narratives about the war in Ukraine is vastly significant, as it may herald a geopolitical reconfiguration that has echoes of the Cold War’s non-aligned movement.

El Salvador has seen a tragic return to some of the country’s most violent years. At least 80 people were killed on the weekend of March 26-27, and in response, President Nayib Bukele quickly summoned the Legislative Assembly, which in the early hours following the killing spree declared a state of emergency for 30 days. The move effectively suspended some human rights, such as the right to a defense, knowing the charges against you, the right not to incriminate yourself and having access to a lawyer. The decree also suspended the right to freedom of assembly and association and allows the government to intercept private communications without a court order. Discrediting the opinions of human rights activists who have been working to promote and protect human rights in El Salvador for decades is little more than a cheap tactic designed to distract from the policies that, by action or omission, are impeding the country from tackling the wave of violence that is destroying so many lives. Strengthening the judiciary, particularly the special prosecutors in charge of investigating complex crimes by allocating sufficient resources and personnel so they can carry out their work effectively and independently, for example, is one of the policies the country should put in place to break up the gangs.

This book explores the pernicious nature of US engagement with Nicaragua from the mid-19th century to the present in pursuit of control and domination rather than in defense of democracy as Washington has incessantly claimed. In turn, Nicaraguans have valiantly defended their homeland, preventing the US from ever maintaining its control for long. Led by Daniel Ortega, the Sandinistas established democracy in Nicaragua with the country’s first free and fair elections in 1984. Once again, the US attempted to subvert democracy by organizing Somoza’s former National Guardsmen into a terrorist group known as “the Contras.”  Directed and funded by the CIA, the Contras would terrorize Nicaragua for nearly 10 years. Paradoxically, the US government and media now castigate Ortega as somehow “a new Somoza,” a claim that is swallowed by some in the US left. This book debunks this claim by putting Nicaragua’s past into historical perspective and documenting the reality of today’s Nicaragua.

A premium coffee, "Fruits of Hope" is grown, harvested and roasted by more than 1,000 guerrilla fighters who laid down their arms following the signing of a peace agreement between the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia (Farc) and the government in 2016. The combatants-turned-coffee growers are among almost 13,000 former Farc guerrillas who have joined the Colombian government's process of reincorporation into civilian society. Rather than hiding their past, many make a virtue of their unusual entry into the labour market by alluding to it in the names they give their products.

Francia Márquez Mina is an environmental grassroots leader and lawyer whose rapid rise is expanding a new political Black feminist perspective in Colombia and Latin America. Come on Colombia! From resistance to power until dignity becomes customary!” were her closing words in her first public speech after hearing the results of the March 13 presidential primary elections. Although she is not the first Black woman to run for the Colombian presidency, that day, Márquez made history. With a campaign executed in record time, she obtained the third highest turnout—783,160 votes—outnumbering former governors, mayors, and senators with longer political trajectories in Colombia. And while there is no guarantee that Márquez will become Colombia’s first Black woman vice president in May, her work so far has already blazed a path for future Black feminist politicians and created new space for people who have been historically excluded from Colombia’s highest political institutions.