BOGOTÁ, Colombia – The testimony is striking. “They tied me to a tree,” said a Colombian guerrilla victim. “They put us in a cage,” said another. “I was kidnapped for four years.”
“Until then, I had not heard of ‘mass graves’,” said a military victim. “Finally, I understand that those responsible for protecting civilians killed thousands of Colombians.”
After decades of civil war, Colombia created a historic post-war tribunal designed to reveal the facts of a conflict that has defined the nation for generations, becoming the longest war in the Americas.
Thousands testified. Comprehensive investigations are ongoing. The first charges were issued in January – and the first charges are expected in April. Perpetrators will be punished, and those who admit responsibility will receive minor and “restorative” sentences, such as house arrest or remaining at liberty during heavy physical work. Those who refuse to do so will face trial and the possibility of decades in prison.
The purpose of the court, which began its work in 2018, is to give the country a common narrative about the conflict, which allows Colombians to move forward together. The court’s success, called the Special Jurisdiction for Peace, can help change the trajectory of a nation that has been at war for much of its history, with one conflict advancing almost immediately to another.
Failure can mean repeating this cycle.
“We have a window – a generational opportunity – to leave behind the insane violence that we live in all our lives,” said Ingrid Betancourt, a former presidential candidate who was kidnapped and held by guerrillas, sometimes in chains, for more than six years old . “I wish we could open that window and let the light in.”
Colombia’s most recent conflicts date back to the 1960s, when a leftist rebel group called the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia, or FARC, launched an insurgency with the aim of rebuilding a distinctly unequal society.
The war became a complex battle between left-wing guerrilla groups, right-wing paramilitaries, the military, drug cartels and the United States, which provided and advised the military.
For years, everyday life has been marked by bombings, kidnappings and murders. At least 220,000 people died and more than five million were displaced. The war ended in 2016, when the FARC and the government signed a peace agreement that included the creation of the post-war tribunal.
But if the court’s goal is to dig up buried truths, it is clear that this search also exhumes and exacerbates old divisions – and that the path to a common narrative, if it can be found, will be fraught with conflict.
Some see the court as their best chance to find answers about lost loved ones and the country’s best hope for peace; others are angry that murderers and kidnappers will not receive prison sentences; still others simply reject the court’s conclusions, saying the institution is biased in favor of the ex-guerrillas.
The most prominent critic of the court is former President Álvaro Uribe, who presided over some of the last years of the war and who remains the most divisive and influential political figure in the country. A recent court report implicates the military in more than 6,400 civilian deaths from 2002 to 2008, during his presidency.
Lord Uribe answered to the report, calling it an “attack” for “just one purpose”, “to discredit myself”.
The court is held in an imposing black building on a main avenue in Colombia’s capital, Bogotá. Some testimonies are public and have been broadcast on social media or published in public documents, offering a window into decades of suffering. To protect the safety of participants, many of them take place behind closed doors.
So far, the court’s findings have been explosive, revealing victim scores much higher than previously confirmed and overwhelming charges that many skeptics did not expect.
In January, magistrates issued their first indictment, accusing eight of the FARC’s top leaders of orchestrating a decades-old kidnapping rescue operation that resulted in more than 20,000 victims, many of them civilians, some of whom were raped or murdered. The kidnappings were used to finance the insurgency, the court said, and constitute crimes against humanity.
The former accused FARC leaders have indicated that they will admit the guilt. If they do, they will receive non-prison sentences, which can include up to eight years of digging up old landmines or tracking bodies. If they do not admit guilt, they will face a trial and the possibility of decades behind bars.
They have until the end of April to respond to the court.
“We are taking collective responsibility,” said Julián Gallo, who is among the indicted leaders, in an interview.
“They were practices that somehow delegitimized our struggle,” he continued. “What we ask for is forgiveness.”
Some see the defendants’ accusations and response as signs that the court’s decisions will be taken seriously, allowing it to establish that common narrative.
Héctor Angulo’s parents, a metallurgist and housewife, were kidnapped by the FARC on April 19, 2000. He sold his house and paid the ransom for his release, but the guerrillas never returned his parents. He spent two decades looking for their bodies, he said.
He is not sure whether he can forgive, he said, “because the pain a person feels for a family member is irreparable.” But he supports the court’s work, he added, because “that’s what we have.”
Ximena Ochoa opposes the court. Her mother was kidnapped by the rebels on December 16, 1990, held for four terrible months and released after her family paid a heavy ransom. She believes the court is a distraction designed to cover up the FARC’s unresolved crimes. Guerrillas, for example, have not yet surrendered much of their war chest.
The court, she said, will allow ex-rebels to admit some things, an effort to appease the international community, claiming that justice was done in Colombia.
“This whole transitional justice thing is a scam,” she said. About the FARC, she added: “They will never tell the whole truth.”
Two of the rebel leaders accused of crimes against humanity are senior senators, including Gallo – the result of a clause in the peace agreement that transformed the FARC into a political party and gave them 10 seats in the 280-person legislature.
Some victims ask indicted senators to step down. Others, including Mrs. Betancourt, believe they should be allowed to stay.
“It is very important that we tell Colombia that we are building a democracy that is mature enough to hear the political voice of people who have committed crimes,” but then “we accept and sign the peace agreement,” she said.
In February, magistrates turned their attention to the crimes of the military, issuing the hard-hitting report which involved officials in the intentional murder of at least 6,402 civilians when Mr. Uribe was in office.
The murders were part of a previously revealed strategy in which Colombian soldiers or their allies lured civilians from their homes with the promise of jobs, then killed them and tried to make their deaths killings of combatants. Many of the victims were poor, some were mentally handicapped.
The idea was to show that the government was winning the war.
In Colombia, the scandal is among the most discussed aspects of the conflict, and the victims have become known as “false positives”. A previous report by the country’s main prosecutor had estimated the number of victims at 2,248.
The new court number is almost three times higher and implies that a significant percentage of combat deaths at that time were actually murders of civilians.
The association of retired military generals responded to the court’s announcement by calling the numbers “inflated” and an attempt to “delegitimize the laudable work” of the military.
Magistrates are expected to begin announcing the accusations of that scandal later this year.
Uribe, who has said repeatedly that he has done everything he can to prevent the deaths, is exempt from the court as a former president.
During one of the court’s public hearings, Jacqueline Castillo described how her brother Jaime, a civilian, disappeared one day in August 2008 and reappeared days later in a mass grave away from home, identified by the military as a rebel killed in battle. She went to the grave, she said, and watched as the men pulled her brother out of the land.
Before, she idolized the Colombian military.
“They were my heroes,” she said, pressing her palm against her heart. “Now they make me sad.”
Sofía Villamil contributed reporting.