Un mois à Equitas

Par Jeanne Mageau-Taylor

Je n’arrive pas à croire que ça fait exactement 4 semaines que je travaille à Equitas. J’ai réellement fait le saut en regardant mon calendrier. Chaque journée a passé si vite et était littéralement remplie d’apprentissages les plus divers. Voici un court aperçu du début de mon été.

À ce temps-ci de l’année, presque la moitié des employés d’Equitas travaillent à la préparation du Programme international de formation aux droits humains (PIFDH), qui aura lieu du 3 au 23 juin. Cette année, plus de 100 participants (employés d’organisations de droits humains) d’environ 60 pays viendront suivre une formation intensive sur l’éducation aux droits humains au Collège John Abbott, à Sainte-Anne-de-Bellevue. Le but du PIFDH est de renforcer la capacité des organisations de droits humains à mettre sur pied et à mener à terme divers projets d’éducation (campagnes de sensibilisation et de dissémination d’information, création de plateformes d’échange, etc.) qui visent à promouvoir une culture des droits humains.

Le PIFDH en est à sa 33e édition, et c’est définitivement un des programmes les plus intenses et enrichissants qui soient. En tant que stagiaire en éducation, mon rôle durant le dernier mois fut d’aider à la préparation des matériels d’éducation et de rédiger plusieurs analyses statistiques et qualitatives portant sur les caractéristiques des participants et de leurs organisations. J’ai donc mis à jour des textes informatifs sur les organes des Nations Unies ainsi que sur les différents traités internationaux de droits humains; j’ai mis à jour la Communauté virtuelle d’Equitas; j’ai fait de multiples analyses statistiques dont plusieurs membres de l’équipe PIFDH avaient besoin, etc. J’ai aujourd’hui terminé un rapport d’une trentaine de pages qui résume la situation des droits humains dans les pays où travaillent les participants, le tout basé sur leurs expériences et perceptions. Tous ces documents seront remis aux animateurs (les participants sont divisés en 8 groupes, avec un animateur par groupe) afin qu’ils puissent mieux cerner les besoins de leurs participants.

Demain est d’ailleurs le premier des 3 jours de formation des animateurs. Ce sera donc la première fois que je me rendrai dans nos locaux du Collège John Abbott. Ma collègue stagiaire et moi-même serons responsables d’assurer la traduction ainsi que de rédiger des comptes-rendus durant la formation.

Ce qui m’a le plus frappée à Equitas, c’est l’ambiance chaleureuse et le climat d’entraide qui y règnent. Après seulement 2 jours, j’avais déjà rencontré tous les employés et j’avais collaboré avec plusieurs d’entres eux. C’est une organisation où il fait bon vivre et où la conviction pour la cause des droits humains est palpable. Chacun travaille d’arrache-pied et ne ménage pas les efforts afin de mener à bien des projets créatifs et participatifs.

J’espère que tout va bien de votre côté et que vous rencontrez des gens incroyables! Je vous tiendrai au courant du déroulement de la formation des animateurs ainsi que du PIFDH, qui s’annoncent tous deux extrêmement stimulants!

Abandoned and disappeared: the state of human rights violations for persons with disabilities in Mexico

I have been in Mexico City for two weeks now working with Disability Rights International’s Latin America office and it has been an eye opening experience. The rights of persons with disabilities (PwD) are often swept aside, and PwD are frequently treated either as wards of the state or drains on social welfare, when they are just as deserving of equal recognition before the law. People with psycho-social disabilities are particularly vulnerable to exploitation and abuse, as they are frequently denied their legal capacity to make even the most basic decisions about their lives. In Mexico as in many other places, PwD are time and again abandoned to inhuman treatment in isolated psychiatric institutions.

For a popular culture reference you might imagine the novel or film One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest. The work remains a classic reminder of the treatment of mental patients in the USA during the 1960’s. The film portrays deplorable treatment of patients; they are tied to beds, heavily sedated, stigmatized, patronized, and at the end of the film the protagonist McMurphy is lobotomized. While the work remains a timeless reminder of psychiatric institutions of the past, conditions today are far worse in much of the world.

DRI’s Mexican office published a report in 2010 documenting much of the inhumane treatment that PwD suffer in state and private institutions, illustrating the various violations of local and international law. The report entitled “Abandoned and Disappeared, Mexico’s Segregation and Abuse of Children and Adults with Disabilities” examined institutions in five Mexican states and in the Federal District, uncovering gross human rights abuses. Beyond violations of well-established international conventions such as the UN Covenant on Economic, Political, and Social Rights, the UN Convention Against Torture, the American Convention of Human Rights, Mexico’s treatment of PwD violates many provisions of the recent UN Convention on the Rights of People with Disabilities (UNCRPD) which Mexico was instrumental in creating and which it ratified in 2007.

The key findings of the report are sometimes difficult to read. The first finding is that children with disabilities are disappeared and trafficked. The Mexican department of Integral Family Development is in charge of registering the admission of patients to state facilities, but in reality no such records are kept and children disappear into the system never to be found again by their families. For example, Ilse Michelle Curiel Martinez was placed in an institution at the age of six, despite her grandmother offering to take the child. When the parents went to look for Ilse at the Casita del Sur where she had been placed, she had disappeared. 22 other children have supposedly disappeared from the same institution, likely victims of child trafficking.

The next key finding has to do with inhumane treatment of patients which is at least cruel and unusual, and in many cases should be classified as torture. In state hospitals, patients are permanently tied to beds and wheelchairs, in some instances for most of their lives. These patients suffer muscular and skeletal deformations, are deprived of stimuli, are at risk of requiring amputation of limbs that receive poor circulation, and the patients are frequently left in their own waste for long periods of time. In some cases where physical restraints are deemed insufficient, patients are subjected to heavy sedation and even psychosurgery such as lobotomies.

Many other patients (often the majority) could easily live in the community with some support, but either their families are not willing to take them in, or other reasonable accommodations is not offered. These patients languish in institutions for a lifetime, receiving no treatment, habilitation, or rehabilitation. They are warehoused. To make matters worse, their living conditions are inhumane and degrading. Sanitation is usually abysmal, patients are malnourished, under-clothed, and when they are bathed there is typically little to no privacy.

To make matters worse, patients lose all legal and practical control over their lives. Legal capacity is held by their families or the director of the institutions where they are kept. Decisions about treatment, sexual health, rehabilitation or therapy, are all outside their control.

The conclusion of the report is that PwD should be afforded their right to live within the community as provided for by article 19 of the UNCRPD, and a process of de-institutionalization should start immediately. More generally, PwD must be provided the key rights guaranteed by the UNCRPD and other human rights conventions. The Mexican state is falling far short of its obligations under domestic and international law.

The DRI report gives some idea of the subject matter I will be dealing with this summer. Since arriving in Mexico I have been helping with this year’s Zero Project Report, a study of how the UNCRPD is being implemented across the world, what barriers exist, and which practices have worked in advancing its objectives. The Dutch Essl Foundation has sponsored the study, which seeks to focus attention on states which are not living up to their obligations, and to suggest practices that have worked in others places to overcome obstacles. In the near future I will also be working on a project relating to human rights abuses in Guatemala, and on a proposal to reform the Federal District’s civil code. In the coming weeks I hope to learn more about how the rights of persons with disabilities can be protected and I hope to tell you more of the work we’re doing.

Investigating “access” to HIV/AIDS treatment

My first two weeks at the Canadian HIV-AIDS Legal Network have felt like an intense and stimulating crash course. One of my first tasks was to gather information on access to HIV/AIDS treatment to help a policy analyst prepare for a guest lecture. The policy analyst also asked me to go beyond the numbers and find any factors that may complicate the numbers that I found. By the time I finished the research, I came out questioning the word “access” altogether. Here were my findings:

    • At the end of 2009, 36% (about 5.2 million) of the 15 million people in need in low- and middle-income countries were receiving antiretroviral (ARV) therapy, which is used to suppress the HIV virus.[1]
    • Only 21 countries provide data on people with HIV who inject drugs.  Out of the 21 countries, only 9 countries had a treatment rate of 10% for this demographic. [1]
    • Some countries may have initiatives and programs that sound great and accessible, but the whole picture is always more complicated. For example, the National AIDS Control Organization (NACO) provides free first-line ARV treatment in India. However, accessing treatment for sex workers is still difficult due to the negative disposition of health workers. One sex worker recalled to the researchers: “If I am going to be in a condition to take tablets [ART], I will not go there because they denigrate us.”[2]
    • Migrants also face additional barriers to HIV/AIDS treatment, due to strict immigration policies. For example, EU’s Return Directive, established in 2008 and enforced in 2010, enables a member country to detain migrants up to six months.[3] This may make public health interventions regarding HIV/AIDS to migrants more difficult.

 If these facts sound a bit foreign and removed, there is also the issue of differing coverage of ARV drugs by province that can cause mobility issues. Some provincial health care systems don’t cover newer form of drugs. Quebec won’t reimburse claimants who buy medication out-of-province.[4]

“Access” has become one of the buzzwords of human rights law. In many reports I read, there are often goals or objectives that have to do with improving or increasing access to certain services. In our efforts to improve access, we must not only focus on the numbers, but also focus on who gets to access services or programs as well, and how social structures and stigmas limit the effectiveness of certain programs.

 

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[1] UNAIDS, Report on the Global AIDS Epidemic, 2010.

[2] V. Chakrapani et al. Barriers to free antiretroviral treatment access for female sex workers in Chennai, India,” AIDS Patient Care and STDs 23 (11) (2009): pp. 973-980 at 976.

[3] Directive 2008/115/EC, European Union, art. 15.5. (http://eur-lex.europa.eu/LexUriServ/LexUriServ.do?uri=OJ:L:2008:348:0098:0107:EN:PDF)

[4] Deborah Yoong, “Access and Coverage of HIV Medications across Canada”, published on Toronto General Hospital’s website: http://www.hivclinic.ca/main/drugs_reimbuse_files/Provincial%20Coverage%20of%20HIV%20medications.pdf)

Reflections on a Week in Meru, Kenya

By Shantha Priya Morley

After ten days in Kenya, it feels at once that I have been here for months and that I arrived yesterday. This is largely a product of the sensory overload that I have been experiencing since my arrival. After flying for two days across the world, I arrived in muggy Nairobi. Some hours later, after a quick sleep, the other Canadian intern and I met up with a social worker from my host organization and drove up to Meru, in the Central Highlands of Kenya.

The ride was somewhat exhilarating, as the driver was new to the road and to each of the numerous potholes that met our path – they were certainly successful in slowing us down, and it took quite a few hours longer than expected to reach Meru. Early the following morning, we started work.

My host organization’s initial focus was HIV-Aids, and one of the programs that is still ongoing is to ‘sponsor’ children living with HIV – paying for their food, health care, school fees, and education to ensure their basic needs are met. It has since expanded to meet the pervasive problem of girl child “defilement” (the term used for rape in the Kenyan Constitution).

My work for the Equality Effect is based out of the organization’s rescue shelter, where girls who have been defiled or abused are kept safe when there has been no action to arrest the perpetrator, when the court case is ongoing, and/or when the girls’ families are unwilling or unable to protect them from further harm.  It is a great experience to be working in close proximity with the girls and to already be going so frequently ‘into the field.’

One of my first tasks was accompanying a social worker to the Meru Court to observe and document a defilement trial. This visit made tangible the inadequacies of the Kenyan court and police systems and the resultant access to justice issues that I had read about in preparation for the internship.  Defilement cases – if they even make it to court – proceed over many months and in bits and pieces. One court date might be set with the purpose of hearing less than an hour’s statement from a witness or two, and the judge will set the next date weeks or months in the future.

When the girl testifies, the physical limitations of the courtroom can result in the perpetrator being just metres from where she is sitting as she speaks.  Even worse, because few have legal representation, the perpetrator has a right to cross-examine the girl himself. Finally, the prosecutors in Meru are all police officers and not lawyers, which begs questions not only of their capabilities but also of the impartiality of prosecution when police misconduct plays a role in any given case. Seemingly, when the perpetrator has a criminal defence lawyer, and the girl’s only advocate in the court is a police officer/prosecutor, the pre-existing power imbalance is unduly exacerbated.

These brief observations highlight how even when a “defiled” girl overcomes the many obstacles she faces bringing a claim – the great stigma attached to defilement; her family’s impoverishment, lack of resources, and isolation in rural areas; the trauma she experiences; and police indifference or complicity – she must overcome further obstacles in court. I look forward to sharing more details of my legal work here soon!


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