Violence against religious leaders has been ‘normalised’ in Colombia – the authorities must act to guard them

The unseasonal heavy rain of the past few days meant I used to be glad of the rough tarp that covered the back of our ancient 4×4 as we slid and scrambled our way up the dirt track, the duvet protecting us from each the rain and prying eyes of guerilla forces. 

The road snaked up through the hills of Cauca for several hours before we arrived at our destination, a small settlement with a single storey breezeblock church constructing. Dogs and kids bounded as much as us, keen to point out their welcome and demand we make time to play. Meanwhile, men stood around drinking sweet coffee as the ladies crouched over an oversized cooking pot that simmered on an open fire.   

The church constructing was set with rows of plastic garden chairs as rain continued to bounce from the metal roof. Our small team from CSW were here in Colombia for the launch of ‘Perseguidos mas no Destruidos’ (Persecuted but not Destroyed), a book of memories compiled from the lived experiences of the Nasa Indigenous Evangelical Church. 

The plan had been for church and community leaders to hitch us in Bogota for a high-profile launch in parliament where we hoped to attract the country’s attention to the suffering of indigenous religious minorities. However, a late review to the chance assessment forced a change of plan. It was decided that there was a really real risk to life for a few of the contributors in the event that they were to talk publicly, especially with national elections looming. A choice was taken: if it was too dangerous for these leaders to come back to Bogota, we might travel to Cauca and meet them there. 

And so, here we were, listening to shared memories of persecution. Brave families stood one after the other and told their stories in community. Stories of threats and violence, of arrests and beatings and murder, that they’ve endured over the past 20 years. For many, even the easy act of telling their stories, especially to foreigners who had travelled to their community, was immensely significant. One said to us: ‘We are thankful since you kept and fulfilled your word. Now we’ve got our own book. For many individuals it might not seem vital, but for us it’s an important step forward.’

Sadly, these stories are removed from isolated cases and the violence meted out by ideologically driven guerilla groups, in addition to the countless armed criminal gangs, is reaching levels not seen for 20 years. 

In Santa Marta, the capital of the northern department of Magdalena, we met Juan Carlos, an indigenous Kogi Christian leader, who told us that until last 12 months indigenous groups had been left alone by the armed criminal groups present within the region, but were now being forced handy over half of any profits they comprised of their land. It wasn’t just the minority Christian Kogi community that were being affected either; the armed criminal groups had desecrated and destroyed holy places related to the bulk traditional indigenous religion too.

This recent rise in violence can be removed from being limited to distant indigenous peoples. In the urban landscape of Santa Marta, Rodian and his wife stood beside the rubble of their church and residential which had been burnt to the bottom by an area armed criminal group whose leader heard Rodian quoting from the Bible during a service and ordered the destruction of the church – lower than a mile away from the bustling tourist heart of this beautiful city on the Caribbean coast. 

Before leaving Magdalena, we were keen to envision in with our friend Pastor Karen, whose husband Ivan had been shot dead last 12 months for refusing the paramilitary access to their church constructing where they intended to store drugs and guns. Karen asked if we can be willing to go to her at home and spend time together with her family. Previously she had travelled to the town to satisfy and luxuriate in some respite on the coast with the youngsters, but it surely felt vital to honour the invitation. One of the principles of CSW is to face in solidarity with those who are suffering injustice due to their religion or belief. And here, within the ‘Banana Zone’ of Magdalena, traveling through miles and miles of banana groves in territory controlled by armed criminal groups, that invitation to ‘stand with’ felt, once more, like a privilege. 

‘I can’t imagine you got here,’ Karen said as we arrived ‘it’s so dangerous here!’ She went on to elucidate how several men had been killed in a shooting recently. We sat and talked on her front porch; we played with the youngsters, ate plantain and admired a pet parrot that lives within the tree outside their bungalow. It all felt extremely normal. 

It is ‘normal’. Children go to high school, Karen cares for her mum who has been showing signs of dementia, the boys play football. All on this space where violence has been normalised, and has grow to be a spot of pain for Karen. Less than 50 meters from where we sit, hidden from view by the tree, is the place where Ivan was shot and killed – where the police refused to attend because they were too afraid. 

The men who killed Ivan are still free, the extent of impunity here is sort of unbelievable and non secular leaders like Karen, Ivan, Rodian, Juan Carlos and my Nasa evangelical friends act with great bravery often without the protection of the law. In 2023 the Colombian government withdrew special protections for religious leaders, leaving them increasingly exposed to the rising tide of violence within the country. These should be restored. In this beautiful, hospitable country, religious leaders need protecting, and CSW stands in solidarity, demanding motion from the authorities. 

Scot Bower is CEO of Christian Solidarity Worldwide. Click here to sign CSW’s petition calling for protections to be restored to spiritual leaders in Colombia.