For Chilean band Hacia La Victoria (Onwards to Victory), performing songs in their hometown of Santiago is an act of protest.

All of the band’s members were left either totally or partially blinded by projectiles fired by police during the mass anti-government protests which swept through Chile in late 2019 and early 2020.

Keyboard player Vicente Pascal was struck by a rubber-coated bullet in his left eye. “I lost my entire eyeball,” he recalls.

The band’s drummer, Gustavo Gatica, lost his sight completely after both of his eyes were pierced by rubber bullets during a protest in November 2019.

Photos of his blood-soaked face went viral on social media and his case became emblematic of the police repression of the protests.

In total, more than 30 civilians were killed in violent clashes with police, and more than 400 were left with permanent eye damage from projectile weapons fired by the police.

The conservative president at the time, Sebastián Piñera, acknowledged that excessive force had been used to quell the protests and promised reforms.

This vow was echoed by his left-wing successor in office, Gabriel Boric, who promised to help victims of state violence.

The eight musicians who make up Hacia La Victoria met through organisations supporting the victims.

They not only share a passion for music but also a desire to make songs that champion human rights.

For Pascal, the very act of making music is something “revolutionary”. “They shot [at us] to divide us, so to come together and create [music] is very valuable to me.”

The band uses music to denounce ongoing police violence in Chile and its members are among the most vocal critics of a new law, called Naín-Retamal, which broadens the powers of the security forces to use their weapons.

The Naín-Retamal bill was hastily passed in April after a policeman was killed on duty while pursuing armed criminals. Daniel Palma was the third officer to be killed in under a month.

These killings in particular, combined with a rise in the murder rate by 32% from 2021 to 2022 nationwide, have stoked fears over security in Chile, which is one of the safest countries in all of Latin America.

A poll published in April found that 95% of Chileans believed police should be able to use live firearms to confront instances of extreme armed violence. In 2019, this figure was only 49%.

With security concerns high among the population, the government of President Boric backed the bill, despite initial concerns that saw it dubbed “the quick trigger law” by critics.

For the band members, the government’s decision to give the police more leeway to use their firearms without reforming the institution has been an act of betrayal.

“I understand you can’t do such a macro project one day to the next, but it’s something else to go in a completely different direction,” says Pascal of the passing of the bill.

But opposition lawmaker Diego Schalper argues the new powers are necessary as crimes such as kidnappings and drug-related murders mount. “The government has a very serious security crisis on its hands,” he told the BBC.

Mr Schalper, who championed the Naín-Retamal bill, says that it gives police officers a guarantee that when they use their deadly weapons as part of their police duties, they will not face a hostile backlash.

As part of its efforts to tackle violent crime, the government is also allowing police to again carry Uzi submachine guns, 11 years after their use had been suspended following the killing of a teenager during a student protest by an officer armed with an Uzi.

Just days after the Uzi was reintroduced this year, another young man fell victim to the submachine gun. David Toro, 19, was shot dead when officers stopped his car on suspicion of drug dealing.

What followed is still under investigation but Toro never made it to a detention cell. The unarmed teenager was killed after an officer shot him with the Uzi several times.

“They used a gun they don’t even have training for,” said David Toro’s father Álvaro.

Mr Toro maintains that his son had already stopped the car and was obeying police orders when he was pulled over. “The police use their power to threaten people and hide behind their uniform.”

Rodrigo Bustos, the director of Amnesty International’s branch in Chile says Toro’s case shows the danger the new law poses to civilians.

“The Naín-Retamal law assumes that police force is applied rationally, but we know that that’s not happening in practice,” he says.

In his view, Naín-Retamal “does not have anything to do with protecting the police” and is instead all about minimising the punishment faced by officers guilty of mistreatment.

Only a tiny fraction of the complaints made about human rights violations allegedly committed by state officials during the protests have gone to trial and even fewer have resulted in a criminal conviction.

According to Amnesty International’s most recent tally at the end of 2022, charges were brought in just 140 cases out of 10,938 complaints made.

In the few cases that have gone before court, the Naín-Retamal law is already being successfully invoked by lawyers defending police officers.

In May, five officers were acquitted of beating a civilian protester, with the court finding they had acted in self-defence.

The band feels survivors of police violence have been left abandoned, sometimes with dire consequences for their mental health.

Four people who were partially or totally blinded during the protests have taken their own lives.

While the band members are enraged by what they see as police impunity in Chile, they find solace through music, each bringing a mixture of musical influences that range from rock to rap, folk to funk.

Their song Una Terrible Historia (A Terrible Story) tells the story of a young protester wounded by police and sums up the power imbalance they and others wounded by police in the protests feel: “El luchaba por lo suyo, anhelaba dignidad, el usaba solo piedras, ellos armas de verdad” (He was standing up for his ideas, he longed for dignity, he used only stones, and they real weapons”) gravel-voiced Sergio “Totó” Concha sings over punctuated guitar strums that explode into a charged chorus.