Editor’s Letter: Peacebuilding
Peace is not just the absence of war.
Peace is not just the absence of war.
Latin American societies desire to live in peace. At present, there is no perceived danger of neighboring wars. The region is recognized as a Zone of Peace, denuclearized and without weapons of mass destruction.
I’ve spent three decades as an international conflict resolution specialist and have worked on unofficial diplomatic efforts in Colombia, Cuba, the Middle East, Sri Lanka, Libya, Syria and Northern Ireland, among others.
My first lesson in peacemaking was really about war. I was at the Havana Film Festival in December 1988.
San Blas, a neighborhood in Petare in Caracas, is the densest self-produced environment in Spanish-speaking Latin America, home to around 800,000 residents.
Cutting down trees illegally to build a mall in San Salvador Sur reveals a form of government without laws, that privileges cronies, does away with transparency and destroys the environment.
I write these lines on my return from a community in the north of San Salvador, one of those out-of-the-way places that don’t exist in Google Maps and where cellphones don’t work.
On January 1, 2025, a viral post on the social media platform X touted the alleged reduction in homicides in El Salvador under President Nayib Bukele from 6,656 in 2015 (which equated to a world-leading homicide rate per person) to 114 in 2024 (the lowest rate in the Western Hemisphere).
Marching towards what he calls the New El Salvador, President Nayib Bukele has revolutionized many aspects of the country’s reality.
Jean Jean Joseph lies on the cot, an arm draped over his forehead, shielding his eyes. The roof of the temporary medical ward is made of green plastic, casting everything in a sickly tint. His feet are broad and flat, with widespread toes and thickly calloused skin, cracked at the heels—79 years of much barefoot walking.
I have worked in Haiti under a military dictatorship, in the aftermath of the devastating 2010 earthquake and in other crisis periods.
Peace was “in the air” in Colombia in 2011.
Throughout 2024, Salvadoran President Nayib Bukele incessantly repeated that his tough measures against violent gangs finally brought peace to the country.
Four months after the January 10, 2010 earthquake that killed more than 316,000 people and left Haiti’s capital a shambles with 1.3 million displaced, researchers from the Interuniversity Institute for Research and Development (INURED) convened a meeting with 25 community leaders, aged 17 to 21, from Cité Soleil, a vast shantytown in Port-au-Prince.
Blinded by the flare of his rocket launcher, the mercenary lost his footing and missed.
Two hundred and twenty years ago, Haiti blew the conch call of freedom from slavery.
Génesis Salas is a 12-year-old Afro-Colombian girl who lives in a rural area of Medio Atrato, Chocó, a region known for its rich biocultural heritage but also affected by various forms of violence. Children and adolescents frequently drop out of school there, even before finishing grade school, to work in fishing or artisanal mining.
Speaking with Fabián Chaparro is like encountering optimism and a deep-rooted sense of hope. At 37, single, and having spent half his life in the guerrilla, Fabián dreamed of returning to the countryside near his family. His story, titled: Granja porcícola en Huila, ejemplo de emprendimiento liderado por un hombre invidente en reincorporación (Pig Farm in Huila: A Model of Entrepreneurship Led by a Visually Impaired Man in the Reincorporation Process,) eflects his journey.
Derly Patiño entered the room barefoot, accompanied by a group of victims of Colombia’s armed conflict, to participate in a symbolic act. In her hands, she carried some planters that had been repaired in a manner similar to the Japanese method Kintsugi.
La Poderosa, an Afro-Colombian gay man from the rural Colombian town of San Juan de Urabá, was celebrating his 18th birthday in 1999 when paramilitaries abducted him from a public gathering.