Colombia's Protracted Social Conflict: Is it Time We Listened to the Fighters?
For over fifty years the Colombian government and the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia-People’s Army (Fuerzas Armadas Revolucionarias de Colombia – Ejercito Popular) or FARC-EP, have been locked in a vicious cycle of violence, mixed with sporadic negotiations. As the March 23rd deadline for a peace deal quickly approaches, Colombians seem poised for peace. Even a recent Washington Post article praises Plan Colombia - a United States military and diplomatic aid initiative aimed at combating Colombian drug cartels and left-wing insurgent groups with the goals of ending the Colombian armed conflict and creating an anti-cocaine strategy - for opening the way toward a peace settlement. And yet, this fractured society remains challenged by exclusionism, absolutism, and a persistent threat to human security. With this in mind, simply signing a peace agreement is not the same as building peace.
Regrettably, in developing a peacebuilding strategy, there were two questions that were routinely overlooked. The first is why does Colombia’s protracted social conflict defy resolution and the second, what can be done to reverse this vicious pattern? Part of the answer can be learned by listening to all the voices from history. Thus, instead of trying to resolve this conflict using a dominant narrative backed by coercion, perhaps harmonizing differences through a multi-level dialogue may be the path to transformational change. As I listen to former FARC members and wounded Colombian soldiers tell their stories, it is not Plan Colombia that brings hope to Colombia, but rather cognitive change that succumbs to moral imagination.
In 2011, I was appointed by Secretary of Defense Leon Panetta as the Defense Attaché/Senior Defense Official at the U.S. Embassy in Bogota. This allowed me the unique opportunity to sit down and talk with hundreds of wounded Colombian soldiers and voluntarily demobilized FARC soldiers. After listening for hours to their fascinating stories, what struck me most about these two identity groups was how very similar they actually were in nearly every aspect of life. Indeed, these two groups come from the same socio-economic background with the same dreams of raising a family, aspirations of finding a dependable job, the hope of one day really being able to fully integrate into Colombian society as productive citizens, and finally with the same wishes or assurances of someday being able to enjoy life happily ever after.
There is a striking consistency in the demographic profile of these two identity groups. Besides growing up in similarly impoverished and socially marginalized villages, their life’s major decisions were influenced by social humiliation and rejection. In both cases, their futures would be sealed based on a decision made at a very young age. Their choices were simple; to join the Colombian military, FARC or one of the many Criminal Bands (Bandas Criminales – BACRIM) that are involved in some form of illicit activity. Their options were limited as they contemplated which career path they would pursue. Notwithstanding these limitations, the recruitment strategies for the Colombian military, FARC, and BACRIM could easily pursuade an individual to join their organization. But because many of these would-be recruits were still too young to officially join the military, this left them with few alternatives.
I met Fidelia Arevelo Velandia, alias “La Garza,” at one of the individual demobilization sites in the outskirts of Cali. Located in southwestern Colombia in Valle de Cauca Department, there are actually five demobilization centers managed by the Colombian Joint Command in different geographical locations throughout Colombia. Demobilization centers are permanent structures used to house and process former FARC members who escaped the guerrilla organization and through local contractors, the Joint Command processes individuals in three phases. The first phase is the voluntarily demobilization and disarmament of the individual, and this is followed by a psychological evaluation and basic education phase done in one of the demobilization centers. The final phase is the actual reintegration into civilian life and in theory, this is when individuals are supposed to become productive members of Colombian society, but reality suggests a less positive outcome.
Unlike the uniqueness of this all-female demobilization center Fidelia was transitioning through, her story was anything but unique. In fact, it was very similar to hundreds of other stories I heard previously. She was poor, had little education, and she came from a village left behind by the Colombian government.
Unlike the uniqueness of this all-female demobilization center Fidelia was transitioning through, her story was anything but unique. In fact it was very similar to hundreds of other stories I heard previously. She was poor, had little education, and she came from a village left behind by the Colombian government. Rural Colombia offered few options to improve one’s livelihood, so those like Fidelia,were forced to carve out a meager subsistence through some “informal” or illegal activity. For many who lived under these impoverished circumstances, working as a daily laborer cultivating coca leaves was common and the fact that she was still only eleven years old, the military option was easily ruled out.
One ordinary day she was playing with her girlfriends inthe dusty dirt roads of Puerto Gaitan in Meta Department, when a FARC member offered them candy bars and shared exciting stories about life as a FARC guerrilla. Admittedly, she was impressed by these promising stories, the FARC member’s uniform and his AK-47 Russian rifle. He was convincing, he listened to the girls, he was trusting, and the rest was history. Fidelia would never see her family again.
As a FARC guerrilla, Fidelia fought against Colombian soldiers for twelve years. She also gave birth to two babies, of which she would be forced to abandoned, attended first aide school at one of the FARC hospitals, and met several FARC leaders including the alias Mono Jojoy. But in 2011, Fidelia decided it was time to escape from the FARC organization. A risky proposition, because if she was caught trying to escape, she would certainly be killed. In August 2011 she succeeded in escape plan. After being interrogated by military intelligence, she was transferred to the only all-female demobilization centers.
As I watched her cuddle her two babies, who were miraculously reunited with her at the demobilization center, I wondered what the future would hold for this young girl. How would she be judged by Colombian society? How would this impoverished girl from PuertoGaitan be able to reintegrate into a Colombian society in which she had never actually been integrated? The challenges she would face really began to sink in as we said our final good buys. To this very day, I still remember the pain I felt when she looked me in the eyes with a sense of desperation and said; all I want in life is to find a husband, get a job as a seamstress, and raise my family. A moving story, but how would Fedelia and thousands of others be able to tell their stories? And would anyone actually listen? I sensed she too was worried about her future and whether the reintegration process would treat her fairly.
On a weekly basis, I visited the Colombian wounded soldier’s at the Military Rehabilitation Center in Bogota. Similar to the demobilization centers for FARC, these horrifically wounded soldiers were undergoing a phased rehabilitation program to also reintegrate them into Colombian society. During my time in Colombia, on average, over five-hundred Colombian soldiers were being killed by the FARC and more than two-thousand soldiers were tragically wounded by FARC improvised explosive devices (IEDs) on an annual basis.
Leonardo Varon Lopez was born on November 11, 1979, in Tolima province, an important FARC enclave. Growing up in a poor family with little education and few options, Leonardo decided to join the army. His attraction was the excitement, the improved social standing it would offer, and the opportunity to escape a life full of humiliation, rejection and marginalization. Leonardo too was eager to move away from the village that had been left behind. A village, like so many other rural areas in Colombia that offered little, but demanded much. Obviously, Leonardo’s life had changed, as he proudly expressed his love for military life, its challenges, its opportunities to learn, travel, earn respect and be heard, and to meet a beautiful girl. With every reason to be proud, this would unexpectedly change for the worse.
On June 6, 2009, I was point man on a small unit combat patrol against the FARC. We had been patrolling for three days in mostly rainy, miserable conditions. Although wet and tired, I was happy because I knew that after this mission I would be spending some quality time with my family and girlfriend. At almost eleven inthe morning something happened in which I never thought would happen to me. Our patrol was suddenly shocked by the thunderous explosion of a destructive FARC IED. When I finally cleared the dirt from my eyes, my worst fears became reality. I fought against the excruciating pain and negative thoughts in my head, but when I saw that I no longer had my legs, I could not hold back the tears of horror and profound sadness.
Reflecting on my situation, I later came to realize that although I may have lost my legsduring that combat patrol, what kept me alive was the fact that I never lost my love for humanity. Perhaps more importantly, despite my permanent disabilities, I choose not to hold malice toward the FARC. Interestingly, Fidelia too demonstrated great empathy for the Colombian soldiers who died and those who suffered debilitating injuries during this protracted war.
No doubt, peacebuilding in Colombia will be an enormously complex endeavor in an unbelievably dynamic, and destructive setting of violence. But the stories conveyed by Fidelia and Leonardo may be compelling enough to add value in developing a peacebuilding strategy that eventually leads to positive peace. A strategy that promotes dialogue between these two identity groups at all levels. A strategy that addresses pervasive cognitive errors like misattributions about the characteristics and motivations of the other side. A strategy that actually addresses basic human needs for millions of Colombians like Fidelia and Leonardo. A strategy that does not seek to resolve conflict, but rather bring harmony among differences. A strategy that emphasizes workshops at all levels to improve understanding, trust and equitable coexistence. A strategy that will actually bring these two identity groups together in order to follow a path from cognitive dissonance to cognitive resonance. A strategy that will indeed help reconcile differences and heal the social fabric of a wounded nation. Yes, the stories told by Fidelia and Leonardo just may help Colombia find theideal peacebuilding strategy for positive peace, if we are only willing to listen.
### Photo: Lic. Nancy Liliana Bello Quintero