“It is sad that in Colombia we are more prepared for death than for life”
Professor Sara Fernández, Secretary of the Board of Directors of the Association of Professors of the University of Antioquia, was forced to leave her country after being the victim of an attack against her life in her home in Medellín in March 2020. The Association of Professors of the University of Antioquia, of which Sara is a member, and other university organisations, colleagues and students of the University, had received threats some days before the attack. The attack suffered by Professor Fernández is not an isolated case in Antioquia. Quite on the contrary, it evidences a historic and cyclical pattern of violence against those who work at university and defend public education in Antioquia and in the country. The interview also describes the difficulties faced by universities to address this type of situations and provide appropriate support.
Sara Fernández
My name is Sara Yaneth Fernández Moreno. I am the youngest child of a family of nine children. My mother was a rural teacher and my father was a peasant with land. I studied at public universities. If I had not entered the National University of Colombia in Bogota, I would not have been able to pursue university studies. I obtained a degree in social work with a focus in the hospital area. I started to work on issues connected with the right to health, sexual rights and reproductive rights. After that, I did a Master’s degree in population studies at El Colegio de la Frontera Norte in Mexico. The topic of my thesis was sexual and reproductive health in Mexico. By that time, I assume myself as a feminist. I returned to Colombia and in 1997 I joined the National School of Public Health Héctor Abad Gómez in Medellín as a part-time professor. In addition, in that year I became a professor at the University of Antioquia. In 2001, I moved from the health area to the area of social and human sciences as a full-time professor. I pursued a PhD in Collective Health Sciences at the Latin American Social Medicine School of UAM Xochimilco in Mexico. My PhD studies were focused on the feminist perspective in health. Indeed, while I was in Mexico, I coordinated the Latin American Network of Gender and Collective Health of ALAMES [Latin American Social Medicine Association]. By then, I define myself as a feminist, activist and academic.
When I returned to Colombia after finishing my PhD in 2008, I was met with the financing crisis of public education in the country. In 2009, public mobilization begins against Colombia’s education model of disinvestment and privatisation of public education. This is when I become actively involved in social mobilization on this issue. In 2010 I became the Vice-president of the Board of Directors of the Association of Professors of the University of Antioquia. I already had some experience in trade union activities as I had been professors’ representative at the National School of Public Health Héctor Abad Gómez, and I have been a member of the Association since I became a professor of the University. This Association is almost 60 years old. Together with the School, the Association was founded by Héctor Abad Gómez, a public health physician and human rights defender killed in 1987. He fought for the right to health and life. Along with Héctor Abad, between 1987 and 1988, more than half of the members of the board of directors of the Association of Professors of Antioquia were killed (Watch the video).
With the mobilisation, we managed to partly stop disinvestment in public education. This was a critical time because we took part in the National Student Wide Table (MANE) and Antioquia had a prominent role at the regional level in the Regional Student Wide Table (MAREA) in Antioquia. I was then directly involved in the process as Chair of the Board of Directors for two periods and as a Board Member for one period. We restored the dynamics of involving the entire university community. I remember that we set up the Institutional Transformation Table (MATI), at which we ratified the public character of the University when, I reiterate, the governmental guidelines have been heavily pushing for the privatisation of education for quite some time now. Then I withdrew from my work at the Association in order to act as professors’ alternate representative in the Higher University Council (CSU), the highest governing authority in the University. When I finished my term, after a year and a half, I joined the Board of Directors of the Association once again, now as a Secretary. We took part in the national strike and mobilisation against the policy of president Iván Duque (2018- present), who in November 2018 had implemented a package of regressive measures to finish off what remained of the social rule of law. After that mobilisation, we saw that the points of agreement that had been reached with the various sectors, including public universities, were not fulfilled, so we joined the nationwide mobilisations and pot-banging protests in November 2019. These mobilisations went on until February 2020. I had had a highly visible role in the public denunciation of the excessive use of force and abuse by the anti-disturbance squadron in containing the mobilisations. I was serving at the time as a delegate to the Human Rights Permanent Committee of the area of education within the framework of the social protest, to which I ended up resigning in November 2019 precisely for that reason. In fact, we were more and more convinced that people had infiltrated to break the protests, which were peaceful at the beginning. We had denounced all of these events in newspaper articles, press releases, meetings and assemblies, which were open and public. On Monday 2 March 2020 we received threatening pamphlets from a group that calls itself Gaitanist Self-defence Forces of Colombia. The university was covered in pamphlets threatening all the unionised university bodies—associations, unions, student offices—some colleagues and students were even named in the threats. The Association of Professors, of which I was the secretary of the board of directors, was included in the threats. That was on Monday 2 (watch the news here). In other words, the threats returned with social mobilisation. And I say that they “returned” because this is not something new. After these threats on March 2, on the following day, March 3, we held an assembly between all of the University bodies, the rector’s office and the university authorities. At that time, we had a confrontation with the mayor of Medellín as he had virtually militarised universities in order to curb mobilisation and social protest. The mayor had authorised the anti-disturbance squadron to enter universities when any event regarded as a “threat to peace” took place. This is not only a violation of the autonomy of university but also an excess of powers. We let the mayor know this in strong press releases and statements. That March 3 the mayor even ordered the evacuation of the National University campus in Medellín from a helicopter spraying tear gas.
I suffered the attack in the early hours of March 4. A young man broke into my home at 2 am; I was alone, sleeping, and he broke in and stabbed me with a knife. It was only by some millimetres that they did not succeed in their purpose. I had a deep wound that punctured my lung. I ran after the attacker. I managed to ask for help, call the police and tell security. The man who broke into my home was arrested, and some months later two other men that aided him were also arrested. I alerted the neighbours, called an ambulance and my partner. I managed to do all that. I did not lose consciousness and I was two weeks in intensive care, not only because of the seriousness of the wound but also for reasons of security and surveillance protocols. In those days, the pandemic broke out and isolation measures were implemented in the country.
The wound was 12 centimetres. As the attacker punctured my lung with the knife, there was a risk that I could experience a pneumothorax. This means that water and blood had leaked into my lung and it could have collapsed. I underwent 4 surgeries and had 4 tubes inserted for 2 weeks so that my lung could drain. It was very hard as the tubes are inserted directly into the lung and it is very painful. These wounds do not go away and I have to treat them for the recovery of my lung and breathing capacity. The tissue was also severely damaged and my health will take a long time to recover.
Do you know the specific reason why you were attacked?
Not yet. In view of the pamphlet with the threats, I presume that it had to do with my political activism. The attacker was finally convicted of aggravated attempted murder. As he entered into an agreement with the court, he was sentenced to 10 years’ imprisonment, with no possibility of commutation. He admitted being the perpetrator, but stated that he was aided by accomplices. And he reported that his accomplices were the other two people that helped him carry out the attack, but he did not give the names of the intellectual authors. This is now the subject matter of another investigation.
And do you connect it with a particular reason?
It might be related to the fact that the university is the target of threats from time to time. When the university gets mobilised, when the university denounces and becomes publicly visible, then threats begin. This is a common occurrence. It is also widely known that there have been paramilitary structures in the university. In fact, there was a paramilitary group known as Antioquia University Self-defence Forces in 2000. This information has circulated in local and national media outlets and in investigations linking professors, students and workers to the paramilitary inside the university.
Is this still the case today?
It has not been so visible so far, but given the complexity of the armed conflict in Colombia and in particular in Antioquia, we cannot rule it out either. Antioquia is an Uribist ultra-conservative territory. And Medellín is a territory in permanent dispute. The narco-para-state is visible at all levels and everyone knows it is there. It has been a while since we do not see anything signed as “Antioquia University Self-defence Forces,” but they are still out there. In fact, they appear in “Hacemos Memoria,” a website of the University of Antioquia, where you can find a timeline of violence at the University. Some time ago we commemorated the murder of Gustavo Marulanda, a philosophy student, that precisely coincides with the times of strong paramilitarism at the University (watch video here: Gustavo Marulanda: ¿Quién lo recuerda? – Hacemos Memoria). The video shows how all of the contextual elements surrounding the murder of Gustavo as he was leaving university are very similar to the present situation. His murder took place within the framework of demands for broad financing of public education, the right to education, democracy at university, university autonomy, respect for life, containment of security forces and respect for university as a territory. This evidences the cyclical nature of the threats. The most violent times against university certainly follow a cycle. This is not a coincidence.
What were the repercussions after the attack?
I am a visible person in Antioquia and at a national level. Many people and organisations expressed their solidarity. The collective Justicia Mujer, which is a collective of feminist lawyers gave me enormous support; one of the members of the collective is acting as my lawyer. The People’s Training Institute (IPC), of which I am a member, also provided me with a lawyer. The Freedom Legal Corporation, a prominent human rights organisation in Medellín, also gave me immediate support through legal representation. The university has not been so diligent in taking action because it does not know how to proceed. A high degree of institutionality may not be as effective as one would wish. I am somewhat dissatisfied because there has been a great deal of improvisation with the measures adopted in connection with my situation and that of the colleagues that received the threats. Everything became complicated, uncertain and distressing. Neither the university nor me knew for sure what to do about my situation.
The public university in Colombia is a permanent target of threats and there are no regulations in place to deal with such situations. We should have many more strategies to address them, but we do not. We did not know of the networks and organisations working on these issues such as Scholars at Risk. There was a great deal of improvisation and lack of knowledge. Many colleagues were paralysed by the situation, and the pandemic and isolation did not help. In addition, there is a great deal of fear. Many people that have been threatened have left Medellín, but then not everyone can do that. Some people cannot choose to go away.
What happened after that? Did you report the incident?
What happened with me? I was placed in a public protection scheme. While I was in hospital, I reported the incident and I was given provisional protection by the National Protection Unit (UNP), which reports to the Ministry of the Interior and is a programme of protection of social leaders, human rights defenders, journalists and other groups under threat. During my stay in hospital, I was accompanied by an escort and police officers at all times. When I left hospital, my partner and I were taken to a hotel with security like CCTV, among other measures. The pandemic made the situation more difficult, but we had basic protection while a risk assessment was made and the permanent protection scheme was authorised. And that is where the bureaucratic maze begins between the National Protection Unit, the prosecutor’s office, the police and all the local and national agencies involved in these cases. We realised that, despite the fact that they are all public agencies, there was no communication or coordination between them. The UNP is one thing, the police is another and the prosecutor’s office is still another thing. It was mad. In addition, the UNP conducted what is known as a “risk assessment” about my situation, but it did so in May, that is, two months after the attack. The assessment was very poor. When I saw the final risk assessment report, I noted that the conclusions were completely distorted. I know what I said! This led to the adoption of inappropriate measures. If the assessment did not stick to the facts, the conclusions and measures could not be appropriate. That was frustrating.
Were you offered any other proposals and/or protection measures?
Over the course of these months, for instance, the assistant to the prosecutor investigating the case called me and offered me to join the witness protection programme. The witness protection policy is that you are relocated to a given city and provided with a home funded by the state while the investigation is under way. Once the investigation is over, protection is also over; you get a subsidy for three months to make up for the lack of employment and that is it. I told them: “I am fifty years old; I will soon have a twenty-five-year record of work. What will happen with my job?” The assistant told me: “Resign”. And I told her: “And what do I do?” She told me: “Start again.” I answer “Where? What with?” I gave them a definite no. That programme was of no use for me and I would not join it.
What was the response of the university authorities?
They expressed their solidarity, and were diligent and unconditional. But they were scared and terrified. The Board of Directors was willing to help and attentive. The first thing was my physical security and health. I had the best medical attention. They took care of all my needs and visited me several times in hospital. I am very thankful for that. From a human point of view, that brings reconciliation, because we can disagree on many aspects, but we are comrades, and I found that gratifying. On the day of the attack, the university community met spontaneously and gave a symbolic hug to the clinic where I was, which was across from the university. That was absolutely moving, wonderful; it was a very nice action that gave me a lot of hope. And to see how people overcame fear, that they were not paralyzed and responded with love, that was overwhelming. I had recorded a message from the clinic saying “No nos dejemos” [Let’s not give in]. Let’s not lower the guard. The University celebrates life; there is no room for violence at university. I told the mayor to leave the university alone, to not touch the university (Watch the video here: (205) Sara Fernández – El Alma no se toca – #TodasTodosSomosSara – YouTube).
The people close to me were terrified, and rightly so. They wanted me out of the country right away. We looked at the different work alternatives that could help me to leave the country: first we thought of a sabbatical year, but it was a short time for me to recover fully. So we looked for different forms and alternatives for me to leave, but it was difficult because public education is suffering from disinvestment everywhere and there are not enough effective support structures. At best, they told me: “we have an office for you, but we can’t pay you a salary or provide any resources for your stay.”
Did the university help you in that search?
Each situation is different and needs to be looked at on a case-by-case basis. We have already seen that no institution is prepared for these contingencies and university is no exception. We noticed that straight away, so we started with the nearest networks and the international networks of which I am a member. They offered to put me up from several countries, all were friends, but we all know that you can put up a friend for a week, but no-one puts up friends to live with them. And you need to eat, work, have a salary and basic conditions. And here comes another point: I have a 25-year university experience. I am not interested in giving it up. So, although I received these invitations, there was no money. Moreover, there are no agreements in place that allowed me to go to the universities where I had contacts. And, in addition, who pays the salary? That is where the problem begins. No-one is going to pay a salary. So the only solution was to take a “studies commission,” by means of which they send you to study abroad and continue to pay your salary. When you return, you have to make up for that time with work.
By that time, I saw no options. I was totally hopeless. But it turned out that when the attack took place, there were many solidarity letters and public statements from colleagues, collectives and organisations (click here for more information). That was moving. Thanks to one of those international support letters, I managed to leave the country. My colleagues put me up and opened the possibility for me to continue working on the topics I worked on in Colombia, that is, gender equity policies in higher education and the elimination of gender-based violences in universities.
When did you leave the country?
I left the country in November 2020. On that same day, the rector of the University of Antioquia signed a public agreement to end violence against women in universities as part of the UN Women campaign for safer cities for women. That day I recorded a video saying that it was very important to commit all the citizenry to eradicating all forms of violence in university academic spaces, including, of course, the elimination of violence against women in cities.
How are you experiencing having left your country and living abroad? How do you feel now?
I have the advantage of having lived abroad in the past and that experience is invaluable. You develop a strong ability to adapt and face fears more easily. But this time was different; I had never thought I would have to start again at 50. I was already very tired and overwhelmed; the country hurts and it hurts a lot; Colombian reality has been and still is painful. So, I did not attach much importance to this trip; I did not even think about it until one week before I travelled. I did not even pack my suitcase; someone packed it for me. What remained of me arrived at a new destination and I somehow started again.
However, being here, the most important thing takes place: I can walk in the street at ease; I can feel safe, out of danger, and enjoy silence and above all, I can sleep soundly for more than four hours a day and have a restful sleep. That has been a substantial change. Another thing that I did not use to do and I started to do was to learn to receive, that is important, it is quite a lesson; we have formed an extended family with the people that put me up and with the owners of the house where I live. That is absolutely healing.
What do you recommend that might be useful for your present situation living abroad after having experienced such a serious attack?
A language course would be useful, always, for everything. In fact, I study the language every day and I now dare to speak more, but I have done all of this on my own. Everything has been put on hold with the pandemic. The university is closed and we work from home, and this is how things will work for the rest of the year. I have already spent the first months of my stay and I already have some commitments such as publications and reports I have to submit as part of the postdoctoral stay. I have to work between two countries with different time zones, systematising information, taking part in meetings and writing all the time. Being here involves meeting a demanding academic proposal, for which I have to deliver specific products, and although my counsellors have been understanding and have shown solidarity, I know that I have to respond with good work and that is overwhelming at times.
So, the postgraduate programme with which you left your country is a standard programme that can be used by any researcher to leave the country even if s/he has not been the target of threats? Does this imply that these programmes do not take into account the challenges and particularities of having to leave the country because your life is at risk?
Exactly. The studies commission that allowed me to leave the country has high level postgraduate requirements; that is precisely the reason for a part of my crisis. No adjustments have been made to the programme, as it was not conceived or established for that purpose. It is a postgraduate programme like any other. That is why I sometimes feel overwhelmed, because I have to do a great deal of work. I insist, I have a high level of demand with what I do and I have a very busy schedule. In addition, the financial situation is distressing. I have obtained financing for one year, but I have no guarantees for the remaining time. The cost of living is high where I am living and the salary I get from Colombia just vanishes here.
Added to this is the fact that, because of the pandemic, there is no access to university services that can help to somewhat relieve the situation. There must be many cases like mine. It is worth thinking of special support lines in academic settings for people at risk that aim to continue doing their university work, as is my case. The forced lockdown has made things more difficult, but I stubbornly keep my hopes up. I know that spring will come soon.
For further information about the context of Sara Fernández’s case and the situation in Antioquia, see the website of the Association of Professors of the University of Antioquia (Asoprudea) and the following document: